Whole again Epilogue
by Leila B
Summary: Against all odds they found love at last - and more happiness than any of them had ever thought possible. And while fate seems to give them a break, there is still a final battle to be fought. Because no happiness comes without a price ... COMPLETE
1. Part I

DISCLAIMER: As always - the world was created by J.K. Rowling, and I admire her deeply. (If only she'd write faster!) This is fanfiction, and not written in the intention to make money from it.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
  
Well, as promised this is part 1 (of 3) of that epilogue to "Whole Again". As some of you will notice, I've finally overcome my common orthographical errors (ah, safe and save, relief and relieve, etc) - only to acquire new ones. German is still my first language, and will still interfere with my grammar, I am afraid.  
  
If you are new to this - Whole Again is a multi-chaptered saga about Severus, Sirius and Remus, and about the women they love. Since this is the epilogue you will hardly understand what is going on. So I suggest you read the stories first (hint, hint) and the epilogue when you are done.  
  
  
EPILOGUE Part I  
  
  
_The fire burned low and turned the warm colours of the soft rug in front of the fireplace into a meltdown of reds and gold.  
  
It was a children's room, filled with books and toys, and the disarray told of joyful hours spent with games.  
  
The wizard who came in from the adjoining bathroom looked rather dishevelled. A pink smear of finger paint graced his cheek. Obviously minding two very lively children had taken it's toll.  
  
Over his shoulder he carried a squeaking little girl in pyjamas, while a three year old boy followed, jumping up and down, trying to pull his sister's pig tails.  
  
With the help of physical strength, a slightly modified Quidditch manoeuvre and a few uttered spells the wizard succeeded to get both children into their bed and under the covers.  
  
Two scrubbed faces eyed him expectantly.  
  
"A story, Daddy! Tell us a story!"  
  
He winced. "You know that Mommy is the one who's good with story telling. But Mommy is busy. Daddy on the other hand is good with ... with ..."  
  
The little boy gave him a huge grin. "Good with making things that go boom!"  
  
The wizard raised one eyebrow. "Exactly. I make things go boom. So if you don't go to sleep right now, guess what's going to happen?"  
  
The threat, delivered in a low growling voice that even brought the most riotous classes to attention, made the children shriek with laughter and hide under their blankets.  
  
Smiling to himself the wizard picked up on of the books on the low table and sat down next to the fireplace.  
  
"No, Daddy. A new story!" demanded the boy.  
  
"Oh please, Daddy, tell!" begged the girl and her bottom lip started to tremble - a sure sign that very soon begging would turn into weeping.  
  
He sighed.  
  
"Only one story, agreed?"  
  
The children beamed up at him. "What's the name, Daddy?"  
  
"The name?"  
  
"Of the story, Daddy," the boy insisted. "Every story must have a name!"  
  
The wizard settled into a deep chair between the two beds and frowned. "Well, if that is so, then this story's name is "Reginald".  
  
"Daddy!!" both children protested giggling.  
  
"Alright," he sighed and with a wave of his wand dimmed the lights. "This story is called ..._  
  
  
  
  
  
**OF DARKNESS AND LIGHT  
  
**  
  
Claire stood by the high window that led to the terraces and looked out at the party in the garden. Who'd ever thought she'd have so many friends one day? And a husband? And an adorable daughter?  
  
It was the third weekend of June, only days away from midsummer, and the air smelled of the roses that grew untamed all around the Winterstorm mansion. Cheers sounded over to the house, as Harry, Sirius and a few other children engaged in a fast spot of Quidditch, while Hermione sat on a blanket on the lawn, tickling Rose, and Serene and Remus swung a giggling Jonah on the swing the elves had crafted.  
  
Laurel and Severus walked along the clear stream that bordered the Winterstorm estate and Claire could not stifle a laugh when she saw how the Potions master's hand slipped into Laurel's whenever he thought them unobserved.   
  
Draco Malfoy sat under a tree and watched the scene with an unmoved face. Claire had insisted on inviting him, although the boy had fought with tooth and nail agaisnt leaving Hogwarts. She knew how fast a chosen retreat could become a prison and had no intention to let him sulk any longer.  
  
She took the plate the elves had filled with freshly baked strawberry tarts and stepped out on the terraces to set the table. Soon everybody would be hungry, and could there be anything more enjoyable than feeding a party of friends?  
  
And there would be many more parties to follow. Serene and Remus would get married on the full moon after midsummer, and then there would be Harry's birthday, and Halloween, and Christmas, and Rose's birthday. With a contented sigh she waved at her husband who stirred his broom in a narrow curve over the roof and shortstopped the Quaffle right before the chimney.  
  
Pursued by Harry, Ron and Ginny he took off laughingly, and Claire went on with setting the table, humming a song Rose loved.  
  
When a dark figure stepped out from behind the mighty oak that shaded the terraces, Claire forgot to breathe. "You!"  
  
Ben bowed with a sneer. His once so pleasant face showed deep lines, the same signs that in the end had disfigured Lucius Malfoy's handsome features completely.  
  
"We are in dire need of more funds," he announced curtly. "All I need is a signature, and I am off and won't disturb your little party any longer." He glanced through the rosebushes that rambled along the terraces and his face distorted even more. "Serene," he hissed. "And ... him."  
  
"They are going to be married soon." Claire bit her tongue. It had probably been unwise to let Ben Olsen know that the witch he desired so much was to marry another wizard. Then again, sometimes the truth hurt more than any sword, and since she was short of arms at the moment, the truth it had to be.  
  
"The document," she ordered with all the arrogance of the very rich and pure-blooded she could muster. A flourish with a quill, and her name certified the transfer of another 100.000 Galleons to Olsen and his "business partners."   
  
"And now get out of here, Olsen," she snapped. "What shall my guests think if they see you here! You'll blow my cover, and then you can forget about the money."  
  
He rolled the parchment and stored it carefully in his bag. "Your investment is safe with me, Mrs. Winterstorm. Any news of your husband?"  
  
She shrugged casually. "Not lately. As far as I am concerned, he can rot somewhere. He deceived me, spied on me, let me believe he loved me. And that I don't suffer gladly, I assure you."  
  
"Maybe we can find you a husband more ... suitable." Olsen's eyes bore into hers and she had put all her strength together not to show the fear that suddenly crawled into her heart.  
  
"Maybe."  
  
A wave of her hand dismissed him, and while he strode through the garden, almost in sight of the laughing playing people, Claire's knees buckled and she sank down where she stood.  
  
That was where Sirius found her a few minutes later.  
  
"Claire!" His heart skipped a beat, when he saw her white face. "What's wrong? Are you ill?"  
  
"Olsen was here," she whispered. "He wanted money. Sirius, he ..."  
  
The tall wizard lifted her up without effort and carried her to a garden chair. "Did he threaten you? Did he lay his hands on you?"  
  
"He promised me a new husband." Her voice hitched as the tension gave way to the tears.  
  
Sirius clenched his jaws. He'd kill Olsen. No matter what Castor said, the next time he'd kill the bastard, and to hell with the consequences.  
  
  
  
Serene and Remus watched how Draco played a game with Jonah, a game that involved two thumbs, a piece of string and some basic magic, and was way beyond the dignity of a sixteen year old. But both boys seemed to find it hugely enjoyable, and Rose, who lay safely in her basket next to them in the shade, watched them with an angelic smile.  
  
"He is bonding very well with small children," remarked Remus. "But he still finds it hard to make friends with those the hat assigned to him."  
  
"Give the boy a break." Serene nuzzled on Remus' ear. She felt so giddy with happiness lately, she wanted everybody to be happy. Even Malfoy who'd let her hang over a hellhole. "Maybe you can talk him into a game of Quidditch, while I take the little Potions apprentice here to the kitchen to wash some of the chocolate cake off his face."  
  
She picked up the protesting Jonah, and carried him towards the house. Suddenly her legs turned to lead, and it felt as if two holes were burned into her back. She turned, and found herself face to face with Ben.  
  
Her mouth was suddenly dry. The hatred in his face overshadowed any other emotion that might be there. Desire, jealousy, a twisted kind of love, all gave way to icy hatred.  
  
"I hear congratulations are called for?"  
  
She nodded wordlessly and sat Jonah down. As casually as possible, as to not draw any attention on the child, she pushed him behind her back.  
  
"So you betray me, Serene." His accusation cut through her, and she knew he used a spell to make his voice as painfully as possible. "I'd have given you the world. More than the world."  
  
"He is giving me his heart." She looked at him, and a tiny spark of pity let her reach for his hand. "Ben, I never promised you anything but friendship."  
  
"Friendship!" He leashed out at her, and Serene felt Jonah wince, but the boy stayed well behind her and kept silent as if he knew the danger. "If I can't have you, he won't have you either." His eyes narrowed. "And since we can't count on you, I'll take business into my own hands now. Give me the child."  
  
"No!" She stepped back and almost ran over Jonah, who squeaked in pain when she stepped on his toe. Raising her wand she sneered at him. "If you as much as touch him, I'll kill you, Ben."  
  
"Expelliarmus!" The force of the spell threw the wand out of her hand, and now her body was the only shield between Ben and Jonah.  
  
"Come to me, boy," the wizard ordered impatiently.   
  
Jonah clung to Serene's legs and looked up at the stranger. He did not know him, but his voice did not sound friendly, and he had not been nice to Aunt Ene. He pushed his bottom lip forward in defiance and gave Ben a solemn stare.   
  
"No."  
  
"Tell him to come, or I'll hurt you. And him," Ben announced, and Serene felt her heart sink.  
  
"Serene! Jonah! Back up!" a sharp voice ordered.  
  
"Mommy!"  
  
A fireball wheezed through the air, right before Ben's feet and set the hem of his robes on fire. Another followed, singing his sleeve, and the third one missed his hair only by inches.  
  
Laurel stood by the fence, shaking with fury and nerves, her hand raised and ready for another attack.  
  
With a puff Ben Dissapparated, leaving only the faint scent of smoke behind. Serene exhaled shakily, while Laurel raced to Jonah and drew him into her arms. While tears ran over down her cheeks, she kissed the child desperately. Jonah on the other hand could hardly keep still with excitement.  
  
Eventually Laurel was sure that her child was safe and well, and let him run off. She winced when she heard him call for Snape. "Daddy! Daddy! Mommy throw fire. Jonah too!"  
  
She allowed herself a moment of weakness and sat down in the grass. Serene crouched down next to her, her face still pale. "You saved us."  
  
"I have not done this since ... oh, for years!" Gnawing on her lip she watched Snape and Remus running up the slope that led to the garden. "What did Ben want, Serene?"  
  
"What he always wanted." Serene rose and pushed her hair back. Tears filled her green eyes. "I let myself forget for a while, but he came to remind me."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
"This must end."  
  
Sirius sat down his mug and looked at the two other wizards. "I am sick and tired of living under the Fidelius charm, my daughter not knowing me, my wife threatened by that bastard Olsen, and Harry in constant danger."  
  
"I guess we agree on that." Snape gave him a scowl. "Although I quite enjoy to forget about you every time I turn away."  
  
"Cut it out, guys!" Remus frowned. "You are worse than second years! This is too serious to waste time with bickering."  
  
"Sorry," mumbled Sirius, and saw with satisfaction how Snape made the same gesture of apology. When he'd received the owl from Remus to meet them in the Three Broomsticks he had been busy making plans how to find Ben and let him pay for what the wizard had done the afternoon before. But three minds were better than one.  
  
"They are after Harry, that much we know," Remus expatiated. "And Jonah."  
  
They need the blood to complete the curse that will restore Voldemort's power."  
  
"Can we get to them, Severus? Is there any way to go in there and attack Voldemort directly?"  
  
Snape shook his head, and Sirius winced at the memory of the Death Eater assembly. "We'd be outnumbered."  
  
"Can we get to Peter?" Remus thought aloud. "He is part of this curse, isn't he? Flesh of the servant or something? If Peter was out of the game, Harry would not be of any use for them."  
  
"Voldemort is not short of servants, I assure you that," Severus said and rubbed his aching temples. "Even if not all of them are as devoted as Peter ..."  
  
"What was the third one?" Sirius held up a hand. "Bones. The bones of Voldemort's father. Can we destroy the bones?"  
  
"There is no method to get rid of mortal remains without a trace. Burning them, dissolving them in acid, don't think I have not considered it," Snape said, dismissing the idea. "But there'd be still a residue. Ashes, Traces."  
  
"We could hide them, bury them in a place where he never finds them," Remus thought aloud. "But where?"  
  
"Where would you hide a leaf? In a forest," Sirius quoted and took a sip of his butterbeer. "Where would you hide a dead body? In a battle."  
  
"And a bone? In a graveyard." For a moment Remus' eyes lit up. Then he shook his head dispirited. "But if he finds only one bone, all is lost.  
  
"There is a curse," Snape said slowly and stared into his mug. "The Disparatus curse."  
  
Sirius frowned and looked at Remus who only shrugged. "I teach Defence against, not the Dark Arts themselves."  
  
"The Disparatus curse," the Potions master said with a flat voice, "is not well known, and for a good reason. It bears a high risk as it backfires more often than not."  
  
"Backfires?" Remus' eyes narrowed. Dark spells were not only dangerous for the target but also for the operator.  
  
"It can be used to disparage something - a substance, a person, a memory - into the corners of the world. Literally."  
  
Remus recalled the few facts he knew about the Disparatus curse. "Dust so fine it takes a lifetime to reassemble the cursed artefact."  
  
"We'd win ... twenty, thirty years, at the most," Sirius shook his head. "Is this worth the risk of becoming dust ourselves?"  
  
"Twenty years to see Rose grow up?"  
  
The question hovered in the air between them, until Sirius bowed his head. "Worth it, I'd say."  
  
"Then we should lose no time."  
  
"But won't the grave be guarded? I am not keen to disturb a Death Eaters' meeting."  
  
Severus thought about it. "We need to stake a diversion. Sirius, can you slip your brother a list of names and addresses?"  
  
"And have the Aurors raid those houses at an appropriate point of time." Sirius grinned. "Castor and his Auror friends will like that."  
  
"At least those who have not tainted their oath of loyalty yet."  
  
"They must all know about it, as the exact time of the raid must leak to the Death Eaters."  
  
"They'll be warned," Remus mused. "It would raise too much suspicion if all those houses would be found empty. So there'll be no meeting that very evening. Clever thought, Snape."  
  
"Not even Voldemort will take the risk to call them."  
  
"I need a day to ..." Remus swallowed hard and raked both hands through his long hair. "I know I must not tell Serene. But I can't leave her just like this."  
  
"One day," Snape agreed.  
  
"One day," Sirius repeated solemnly. "So we'll meet at midnight, tomorrow."  
  
Remus laid his hand flat on the table and Sirius covered it with his own. "Jamie liked to do this," he said softly and looked at Snape. "Claimed it was a Muggle charm."  
  
The Potions master looked at the wizard who'd almost killed him and at the werewolf who'd almost eaten him, and who by a strange stroke of fate had become his ... friends.  
  
He took a deep breath. "I guess we'll need all the luck we can get."   
  
And his hand topped the others.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
"Sirius!" Dumbledore beamed at his former student. "You look well! How did you get in?"  
  
The young wizard rose from the seat in the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore himself had led him into the study only ten minutes ago, but of course could not remember a thing.  
  
"I am fine," he sighed. "Headmaster ..."  
  
"Albus." Snipping his fingers to double the small mount of cakes on the platter he just conjured, Dumbledore sat down. "I think it is time, you called me by my first name."  
  
"Thank you." Sirius swallowed. He'd never get used to that, although the Headmaster had made the same offer several times in the past. He refused seat and cake and paced in front of the fireplace, while the older wizard watched with patience. Sometimes the right words had to work their way up from the legs until they reached the tongue, he knew. There was no point in rushing the process.  
  
"Prof... ah, I mean, Albus." Sirius halted. Deep lines in his face told of some sleepless nights. "I am under the Fidelius charm."  
  
"I thought so." The Headmaster nodded contentedly. "Either that, or I am loosing my mind. Between the two I prefer the charm."  
  
"So you ... remember?"  
  
"Not as such." A tea pot popped out of thin air and the smell of caramel and cream filled the room. Fawkes raised his head and eyed the cakes on the table thoughtfully, until Dumbledore pushed the platter away. "He's shedding. Must not eat too much sugar," he explained. When he saw the confusion in Sirius' face, he chuckled. "Ah, the Fidelius charm. No, I don't remember seeing you since you escaped from Azkaban the second time. And I don't even remember if we had this very same conversation ten minutes ago. But there were incidents ..." He rose from his chair and stepped to a trunk in the corner. After some rummaging in various drawers he produced a Gryffindor shawl. "This, I assume, is yours."  
  
Sirius nodded and clenched his fists around the woollen shawl.  
  
"I found it in my office a few months ago," the Headmaster continued. "The only explanation for it's sudden appearance was the Fidelius charm. Though I can't remember I guess I cast it myself, didn't I?"  
  
"Yes. And it works just fine." Sirius sat down and buried his face in his hands. When he looked up, his blue eyes were dark with determination. "Is there any way to undo it?"  
  
"Of course." Dumbledore took a bite of his cake and pretended not to notice how Fawkes snaffling the rest of it. "First of all the Secret Keeper has to cast a counter spell and then ..."  
  
The expression in Sirius' face silenced him. He cleared his throat. "I see. Without the consent of the Secret Keeper, then."  
  
"Without her knowledge."  
  
"Hmm." Dumbledore stroked his beard and stared into nothingness so long, Sirius suspected he'd fallen asleep, eyes wide open. When the Headmaster sat up straight suddenly, the younger wizard all but jumped.  
  
"There is indeed a way. After all, Secret Keepers could die, and where would that leave the ones under their care?" Baby blue eyes bore into dark blue ones. "But breaking the charm with force is complicated, risky and ..."  
  
"And?"  
  
"There is not way back. Once the Fidelius charm is broken, it can not be cast again. There'd be no protection for you any more, you'd be visible for the Aurors and Death Eaters alike."  
  
Images flashed through Sirius' mind, of dark back alleys and rain swept fields. Of cold nights and a grumbling stomach. Farmers shooting at him, merchants yelling at him. Always in hiding. No chance to catch his breath. And still ...  
  
"It needs to be done. There is no alternative."  
  
"There is always an alternative, child", the Headmaster said mildly.  
  
"Not this time."  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Remus looked up from the letter he wrote when Serene opened the door. She wore a night-gown, white as snow, thin as spiderwebs, and - as he knew from experience, - soft as down. The nights before he'd made sure she did not wear it any longer than until they'd reached the bed.  
  
"Who are you writing to?"  
  
She tilted her head, and the shimmering mane of red hair fell down her shoulders.  
  
"My parents."  
  
"Oh, send them my love, will you? I am so looking forward to seeing them at the wedding."  
  
A shadow passed over his face, and for a moment Serene's heart refused to beat. Something was wrong. "Remus, are you ok?"  
  
He occupied himself with sealing wax and string, and attached the scroll carefully to the leg of the owl that perched expectantly on the armrest of his seat. "All is well, my darling."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
He rose and opened a window for the owl. The soft breeze of a June evening invaded the room, made parchment rustle and quills rise. Serene stepped closer to Remus and embraced him from behind, her chin resting on his shoulder. He grabbed her hands and raised them both to his lips.  
  
"I am sure." He cleared his throat. "You know I consider us married long since."  
  
Her teeth nipped the tender skin at the side of his neck. "Don't think you can get out of the wedding, Lupin," she laughed softly.  
  
"No, seriously." He turned around. "You are my mate, my wife, my love. The ceremony will only attest this in the eyes of the public."  
  
"Ah, and there I was, fantasising about living in sin with you," she smiled, the suspicion forgotten when he started to kiss her thoroughly.  
  
He tug on her tresses playfully. "I think I can pretend. Tonight."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
After dinner Severus watched Laurel tuck Jonah in. They'd have to buy a bigger bed for the boy soon, he thought absentmindedly. And sooner or later the issue of his own wand would not be postponed any longer. He'd send an owl to Mr. Olivander to inquire about children's wands. Not the toy variety, but something that worked while it was to weak to cause any severe damage. With a smirk he remembered the explosion in the lab. The child showed an uncanny interest in potions - at least if they were explosive.  
  
Laurel read a book to him now, a silly story about ducks and a dog that looked a lot like Sirius Black. As almost every night Snape stood in the door and watched the two most important people in his life. Who'd have thought there was so much happiness to be had? He was living on credit, he assumed, since the few good deeds in his life could never balance the joy and love he'd experience over the last two years.  
  
And maybe it was time now to pay back some of the credit fate had granted him.  
  
When Laurel closed the book, Jonah had sunk back into his pillow and hardly managed to keep his eyes open. She kissed his forehead and whispered: "Good night."  
  
"Night." He turned until his stuffed toy-snake had a comfortable place under the blanket as well, and looked at Snape.  
  
"Light, Daddy?"  
  
The Potions master nodded and gave his son a smile. Rituals. The only ritual he'd know as a child himself had been his father beating him whenever he became aware of his son's presence. Rot in hell, Julian, he thought and banned the memory into the darkest corner of his heart, where it belonged.  
  
With a slight wave of his wand he conjured an elf fire in the air over the bed. The small globe of soft blue light was not bright enough to keep the child awake but gave him a feeling of security.  
  
"Good night, Jonah."  
  
Deep regular breathing told him that the little boy was already asleep. All the better, because what came now was only between Laurel and him.  
  
She smiled at him, when opened the door for an eager house-elf, serving two chalices and a dust covered bottle from the Hogwarts wine cellars. "What is the occasion?"  
  
"Being together?" He uncorked the wine and filled both fragile glasses. "You know I am not good with words, Laurel ..." His eyebrow rose, when she snorted.  
  
"Sure. You are absolutely dire. Don't forget I heard you talk about potions, Professor, and "bottle fame, brew glory" will one day find it's deserved place in English poetry," she teased him and took the chalice, but not without taking his hand as well and drawing him down next to her on the comfortable couch next to the fire. "And when did you ever need words with me?"  
  
He smiled and touched her nose with one long elegant finger. "Only too true. I just meant to say that maybe I don't tell you often enough how much you mean to me." He gestured towards the closed door of Jonah's bedroom. "How much all this means."  
  
Laurel's eyes grew soft. "I know without words," she assured him.  
  
Severus sat down his glass on the side table and raised his wand. "Accio."  
  
A scroll sailed through the air from it's place on a desk, right into the wizard's hand. Laurel eyed the parchment doubtfully. Various seals tangled from it, and the bright green ink reminded her of official documents. Only the Ministry used green ink, as it was almost impossible to forge - well, impossible for anybody but a Potions master. "What is this?"  
  
Avoiding her gaze, Severus unrolled the scroll and conjured a quill. "I want you to sign this at the bottom," he said casually. So casually Laurel knew right away something was wrong."  
  
"What is this?" she repeated, her brows knitting in suspicion.  
  
"It's a document I had my solicitor prepare. It gives you access to the Snape family fortune, the estate and the bank account at Gringott's. And to my personal vault there as well."  
  
"Does it?" She said it slowly, while her brain worked furiously. Severus had hated his father and had always refused to touch as much as a sickle of the family money. "And what am I supposed to do with it?"  
  
"I want you to sign this, Laurel." His voice was carefully blank, without impatience nor anxiety. Any other witch would have gladly signed, but not Laurel. Aware of this, he'd come prepared for a long argument and could only hope that in the fire of this battle she'd forget about the war behind it. "If anything ever happens to me, I want you taken care for."  
  
"Taken care for!" Her voice trembled with righteous indignation. "I hold a job, my dear man! And after all you told me about your father, I am not interested in his money."  
  
Snape let her go on for a while, inserting some argument as fuel now and then. When she finally had to catch her breath, he took her hand. "You don't need to take the money, love. But think about Jonah. One day he'll want to study, attend University."  
  
"He's not even two years old, Severus!" she laughed.  
  
"He grows fast. I want him to have the best education money can buy. The rest - a family, a mother who loves him - you'll manage on your own."  
  
His mouth closed over hers, and with shocked surprise she felt something - a desperate need - she'd long thought stilled in him. And then she knew.   
  
"You are saying good-bye," she murmured softly against his mouth.  
  
He did not answer, at least not with words. But the tight embrace told her everything. Her hands fisted around the wide sleeves of his robes. Resting her head against his shoulder, she repeated: "You are saying good-bye."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Her eyes stayed dry, even when her heart shrunk into an aching lump of ice. "You would not go if you saw an alternative, would you?"  
  
"No."  
  
He kissed the crown of her head.  
  
"Let me go with you, Severus."  
  
His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, stroking away yet unshed tears. "If something happens to me, who'll take care of Jonah? I know how it feels to grow up and have nobody who loves you."  
  
Laurel could not stifle the sob that rose when she imagined him dead. "And who'll love me?"  
  
For a moment there was nothing else. The scent of her, the feel of her warm body pressed against his.  
  
"I will."  
  
"Even if you get killed?" Her voice ached with sudden bitterness. Oh, her head knew he had no choice, but her heart would never accept it. How could he leave her? Why couldn't he let somebody else go and do what had to be done? Just once.  
  
His finger gently lifted her chin. "We both knew this day would come. And I take every hour we had as a precious gift. And even if worse comes to worst, I'll love you."  
  
"If you don't return by midnight tomorrow, I'll come to get you."  
  
His hands closed almost painfully around her wrists. "Don't! The risk is too high. Promise me to think of Jonah's welfare first."  
  
Laurel looked up at him. His eyes were shadowed, his face even paler than usual. She knew him well enough by now to know he was running on nerves and fierce determination. He'd made his decision, and no reasoning would make him change his mind.  
  
"You won't go alone, will you?"  
  
"Lupin and Black will come with me. We agreed that this must end. Now." He lowered his head, and his dark eyes held her captive. "Don't think you can evade that easily. Promise me you won't do anything foolish. And you'll think about Jonah."  
  
"I will." She let her forehead sink until it touched his cheek. "I'll think about Jonah's happiness." Which meant she'd make sure her son was safe, when she'd come after her man. "Severus?"  
  
"Hmm?" His kisses tickled her eyelids. It tasted salty, and his heart ached at her courage. She would not cry, not now.   
  
"Let's say good-bye. The good way."  
  
"The only way." He lifted her up, effortlessly and so swift it made her laugh even in this black hour, and carried her to the bedchamber.   
  
And when he left by midnight, silently and like a shadow, Laurel lay in the great four poster bed that had always been a safe haven, felt hot salty tears run down her cheeks, and stared into darkness.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
When the tall clock in the living room stroke midnight, Sirius kissed the face of his sleeping daughter and carried her to the bedroom. He'd held her all day, had played with her, sung her songs he remembered from his childhood, taken her for a walk. He'd shown her bees and birds and the squid in the lake, had changed her diapers and fed her her bottle. How could he fill one day with memories to last a lifetime?  
  
And still, this was all he could give her. And before she'd fallen asleep she'd smiled at him.   
  
Gently he placed the baby in Claire's arms and kissed his wife's mouth. Taking in her scent, he almost changed his mind. Wasn't this all that counted? To be with Claire, with Rose? Maybe they could leave together, escape this madness, find shelter somewhere else? And at the same time he knew he would not budge.   
  
"I love you, Claire," he whispered against her mouth.  
  
"Mhm." Her sigh brushed his lips. "Love you too."   
  
With a last caress he stroked a fair curl out of her face, traced Rose's cheek with his finger, and left, without looking back for it would have broken his heart.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
When Sirius arrived at Hogwarts, he waited at the broom shack as appointed, and after a few minutes saw Remus and Severus leave through the side entrance that led straight to the dungeon. Both wizards carried for the ritual they were going to perform once they'd found the right grave - a small cauldron, various small parcels and bottles, and four torches.  
  
As soon as their baggage was securely stored on the brooms, they made their way to the main gate. The night was clear and the moon already high, although the full moon was still more than a week away. Snape shot Remus a careful glance, but the werewolf seemed composed and determined. Sirius on the other hand burned on a short fuse - leaving his wife and daughter behind had not helped his patience. Snape bit back an acidic retort only when he noticed the deep sorrow behind the other wizard's eyes.  
  
  
  
The main gate loomed white in the moonlight - and to their surprise it was already open.  
  
When they halted in suspicion, a figure stepped out of the shadow by the gatepost and barred they way.  
  
Albus Dumbledore gave them a faint smile. He wore hat and cloak, and his ceremonial insignia that proclaimed him one of the masters of his profession, and Sirius thought that while they had all chosen black like thieves in the night, the old wizard looked like a valiant knight, prepared for battle.  
  
Prepared for battle.  
  
He threw a quick glance at Remus and found the same thawing suspicion in his friend's face. But before he could speak up, Severus took a step towards Dumbledore and rose his hand forbiddingly.   
  
"With all due respect, Albus, you are not coming!"  
  
The Headmaster met the Potions master's furious stare with calm insistence. "What were you going to use to get rid of the bones? The Disparatus curse, I assume?"  
  
Sirius nodded wordlessly. He loathed to admit it, but Snape was right in this. It was one thing to risk their own lives, but an essentially different thing to risk the life of the wizard who was Voldemort's greatest enemy.  
  
"Well, this curse is very complicated and not often used," the old wizard continued casually. "But if I recall the formula correctly, it says something about "the corners of the earth", doesn't it?"  
  
His eyebrows rose when he looked at his students. Grown men, but still his students, and so very young. He'd see them grow up, lose whatever childish innocence they'd had, become hardened by life. His children. No way he'd leave them alone in this.  
  
"The earth has four corners," he added calmly, when none of them said a word. "That's why the Disparatus curse requires the presence and co-operation of four wizards."  
  
Remus grit his teeth. The Headmaster was right.  
  
Dumbledore's cheerful smile let Snape wince, but he had no other choice but to follow the old wizard's advice and board his broom.  
  
"Let's go, boys. No time like the present."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
It was a long but undisturbed flight, north over small villages and the outskirts of a larger city. Remus stirred his broom alongside Snape's and took a glance at the Potions master's face. It was white as parchment, brows drawn in concentration. Somebody had once called Severus Snape Voldemort's "Hound and Hunter", and that was exactly what he reminded Remus of at this very moment - a hunter. Determined to track down his game.  
  
When he prepared to fall back, Snape gave him the perversion of a smile. "Ten more miles, I'd say. You should be able to pick up the stink soon."  
  
The werewolf's nostrils trembled. Indeed, there was a faint smell in the cool night air, something ... rotten. Not just the usual mix of decay, humidity and fertile soil any graveyard provided, but something ... evil.  
  
Remus turned his head and gave Sirius a wordless sign. Without further discussion they took their position on both sides of Dumbledore to shield his flanks, and the Headmaster, well aware of the candid manoeuvre, let them connive.   
  
In a wide circle they surrounded the area, eventually spiralling down to their target.  
  
  
  
The graveyard was just as Severus remembered, and the memory was enough to tighten his throat. It had been at this very place where he'd taken the Dark Mark, and the air seemed to echo of agony still.  
  
A slight touch on his shoulder made him startle, but when he turned it was just Dumbledore standing behind him. "You stepped away from this, Severus," he said gently.  
  
The Potions master took in the rows of weather beaten stones and the centre of the graveyard, where around one grave evil spread like a vile disease. Nothing grew there, no blade of grass, no flower. Even the earth seemed barren.  
  
"Part of me is still here."  
  
He shrugged to get rid of the paralysis certain memories evoked and went to help Remus tie their brooms together.  
  
Sirius unpacked the ingredients Snape had brought and placed them next to the cauldron. Then he drew his wand to light the torches - but to no avail. He tried again, but the wand remained dead and useless.  
  
"They locked the place," he grit his teeth. "Locked it to all magic but theirs."  
  
"Of course they would," Dumbledore nodded. "Just like we did bar Hogwarts to Apparition. Still, we can proceed without wands. There is enough magic in us, I wager, and in the ritual itself."  
  
It was clear without question which of the many graves was the one they sought. In the middle of the barren area the earth was slightly dented, as if it had been opened again and again - as it had, Severus recalled with a shudder.  
  
Positioning the torches at the four corners of the grave, Sirius dug in his pockets and produced a handful of Muggle paraphernalia. "Harry gave these to me," he shrugged when he saw Remus' frown. "After all the Muggles need to light candles without magic, too. And they use these little sticks for it."  
  
He threw Remus the matchbox.  
  
The Muggle way proofed successful, and as soon as the torches were lit, the darkness seemed to recede beyond the graves, reluctant like a animal disturbed from sleep.  
  
Severus took a small spade from his pack. "I'll try to dig up one of the remaining bones. The ritual will be easier to perform if we have them at hand."  
  
When Remus offered his help, he only shook his head. "It's silver. I would not touch it if I were you. But you can start drawing a circle around the grave. Make sure it encompasses all of us and all the four torches."  
  
The Potions master crouched down right on the grave, but before the edge of the blade touched the soil, a shout from Dumbledore made him rise his head - and that saved his life.  
  
Sirius, who had busied himself with the cauldron, saw in shock how the old wizard leaped over the gravestone and pushed Severus out of the line of black fire, that suddenly erupted from the stone. For a heartbeat both wizards seemed to be frozen in mid-air, surrounded by darkness. But while Snape tumbled backwards unharmed, the Headmaster sunk down in a panting heap, and the smell that filled the air, brought cold sweat to Sirius' forehead. He remembered it well. He could still pick it up in some of his night mares. The Dementors of Azkaban had smelled like that. And if desperation and hopelessness had an odour - this was it.   
  
Within a bat of an eyelid he was at Dumbledore's side, as was Remus. The Headmaster seemed unharmed but for a palm-sized area where his coat and robes had been burned and the blackened skin showed.  
  
Severus sat up sat up and groaned. "A booby trap." A glance at Dumbledore's lifeless body sufficed to make him fear the worst. "Is he ... dead?"  
  
Remus felt for the wizard's heartbeat. It was there, but way too fast and panicking like that of a small bird in mortal danger. "Not yet. But he needs help, and fast. We must get him out of here."  
  
Sirius rose and cocked his head. There was something, a faint hissing sound that had not been there minutes ago. "Too late," he said calmly. "They are coming, and we can't Disapparate."  
  
Still numb from the impact Snape kneeled down at Dumbledore's side and helplessly stroked the old wizard's cheek. "Don't die on me, Albus," he whispered. "Not now."  
  
Remus' mind raced. His werewolf senses ran riot. The threatening scent of Dementor, the darkness that veiled the moon ... One of the torches had gone out and fallen on the broomsticks ...  
  
"Padfoot!" His voice was sharp and imperious. "Remember! After graduation when you were so drunk you could not walk back to our flat ..."  
  
"The brooms!" Sirius caught up with his friend immediately. "You and James and Peter tied me to your brooms and they delivered me home, without a rider."  
  
Snape barely raised his head when they moved Dumbledore's body as gently as possible under the circumstances. "They are coming," he muttered. "We failed."  
  
"Get a grip, Snape!" Sirius gave the Potions master a merciless shake and noticed with some satisfaction how the rough treatment brought some colour and anger back in the wizard's face. "Help us!"  
  
Together they tied Dumbledore to the four brooms, using shreds of their cloaks instead of magical ropes. The construction seemed fragile, but it was their best bet.  
  
Remus gave the leading broom a gentle pat on the bristle. "Take him home," he ordered.  
  
Deeply relieved they watched the brooms and their unconscious load take off, circle the graveyard and disappear in the darkness.  
  
Sirius let out a shuddering breath. "What now?"  
  
Severus shrugged. "We wait. The bobby trap will have called them. It's my fault, I should have expected something like this."  
  
"Ah, sod it, Snape!" Remus' eyes flashed amber. "We were well aware of the risks, weren't we? And blaming yourself won't get us out of here."  
  
"Nothing will," the Potions master replied shortly. "At least not alive."  
  
Sirius nodded. The Dark Mark on his arm burned like fire. "They are coming."  
  
Out of the darkness beyond the rows of half sunken grave stones a voice whispered like an icy chill.  
  
"I knew we'd meet again, Severus. You should have let me know you were coming.""  
  
"Did you knock before you entered?"  
  
Remus tried to pierce the darkness but it hung like a thick blanket and disguised everything more than five meters away. Coldness crawled towards them and seeped slowly into their bones, just like it had when the portal was open. So this was Voldemort. Remus swallowed hard. Nothing Sirius and Severus had told him about the Dark Lord had prepared him for this ... complete absence of warmth.  
  
The whisper turned into a hiss. "And you brought your friends. Quite a menagerie we have here, don't you think, my faithful servants. The snake. The dog. The wolf. Come and see."  
  
The shadows parted, and hooded figures became visible, dozens of them, forming a slowly tightening ring around the open grave. When the three wizards stepped closer together to guard each other's back, an wheezing laughter chilled the air so much a passing night bird dropped dead to the ground.  
  
"Ah, friendship! How very ... touching."   
  
A hissing joyless laugh.  
  
"Let's find out if you still stand for each other when pain gnaws at you."  
  
  
A moment of silence.  
Severus closed his eyes.   
  
"Crucio."  
  
  
* * *


	2. Part II

EPILOGUE - Part II  
  
  
It was a beautiful morning as the clear night had promised, and when Serene woke up, she heard the blackbird sing that nested in the maple tree behind the cottage. For a moment she stayed where she was, still half in dreams, hugging Remus' pillow, taking in his scent. He got up earlier than she, and did not mind to fix breakfast. Ah, they were just perfect for each other, she sighed. Why had it taken her so long to recognise it?  
  
When she opened her eyes, her smile widened to a delighted grin. The whole bed was covered with flowers, tiny bluebells, the kind that bloomed on the clearing by the forest pond. "Oh Lupin, you incurable romantic!" she shook her head and picked out one of the flowers to thread it into her long hair. What else could a witch want?  
  
It took a loud knock at the entrance door to make her get up eventually. Wrapped into a robe, with open hair and bare feet, she tapped down the stairs and opened the door with a smile, expecting to see the wizard she was going to marry in ten days.  
  
"Serene!" Abby Lupin beamed at her, obviously delighted to see her. "Jerome, come over here and tell the girl how lovely she looks today!"  
  
Remus' father stopped unloading the broom and sat down the trunk on the doorstep. "Love becomes you," he smiled and carefully touched her arm. As an Empath he normally avoided to touch strangers, and Serene took the gesture for what it was - a welcome to the Lupin family.  
  
"Where's our boy?" Abby turned and looked for Remus. "We were all set to come next week to help with preparations for the great feast, but when we received the letter, we decided to follow Remus' suggestion and come earlier."  
  
Although she loved to have the Lupins here, a faint unease awoke in Serene's heart. The letter Remus had owled last evening …. The flowers on the bed … And where in the world was he?  
  
"He wrote you should come earlier?" she inquired carefully.  
  
"Actually, he specifically wanted us to come today." Abby smelled the jasmine that grew next to the door. "What a lovely house!"   
  
"He said something about you needing family around you." Frowning Jerome studied the young witch's face. It needed not much empathy to feel that something worried her.  
  
"Family …" Serene croaked. "He said I needed family?"  
  
"Well, with the wedding and such," Abby went on and crouched down in the small kitchen-garden by the fence to pluck out some stray weeds. "Julia will come as well. Oh, the fun we'll have."  
  
"Abby," Jerome said softly and touched her shoulder. "Forget it. She's gone."  
  
His wife shot up and stared at the spot where her future daughter-in-law had stood only moments ago. Jerome pointed out the path along the lake that led towards Hogsmeade. "There she is, running as if the Grim was after her."  
  
"Wedding jitters," Abby laughed delightedly. "Just remember our Helena. That girl was so nervous she forgot to put on her shoes and appeared barefoot at the ceremony."  
  
Her husband decided that there was no need to worry her just now. Maybe Abby was right, maybe Serene was only nervous. Maybe Remus had turned and enjoyed a run through the forest right now.  
  
But he doubted it, and suddenly the song of the black bird sounded of doom and dolor.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Serene stormed into Claire's office, not paying any attention to the house-elves who barely managed to save their lives by diving out of the witch's way. When she saw Claire standing by the window, nervously twisting the hem of her sleeve, she stopped dead.   
  
"What is going on?"  
  
Claire turned and gave her a desperate smile. "You tell me. Sirius disappeared this night, shortly before midnight. At first I thought he was going for a run with Remus. They do that once in a while, as you know. When he did not return for breakfast I sent word to Hogwarts, because I assumed he had a meeting with Severus. But Kiki just came back from the castle to tell me that Professor Snape did not show up for his first class this morning."  
  
"Sirius is … was here, in your house, all the time?" Serene frowned. "I don't remember seeing him … Oh!" Understanding thawed. "The Fidelius charm."  
  
"Only two days ago you talked to him in the garden, at the picnic and called him a stupid oaf for accidentally dripping custard onto your dress." Claire's bottom lip trembled. "He was with me all the time. But now he left."  
  
"So did Remy." The red-haired witch's eyes froze over. "If this is some kind of antedated stag night, it's not funny."  
  
A surprisingly strong wail from the nursery made her wince. "Was that Rose? I never heard her cry before. Is she ill?"  
  
Wearily Claire headed for the door. "She's been restless and annoyed with something all morning long." Actually it had been the baby that woke her shortly after midnight. For the first time in her life Rose Winterstorm had not lived up to her reputation as the best baby in the wizarding world, but had screamed until her face was blue and Claire crying with desperation. All the elves had tried to calm the child, but she had wept and bawled until she fell asleep with exhaustion.  
  
Now, when Serene and Claire entered the nursery, Rose lay in her basket and looked up at her mother unhappily, both fists clenched and her eyes already wet with tears.  
  
"It's going to be alright, sweetheart!" whispered Claire and picked her up. The baby hiccuped and sniffled. Over the down covered head Claire's eyes met Serene's. "Something is wrong. Terribly wrong."  
  
Serene flung back her mane of hair and looked down at her feet, for the first time aware that she wore no shoes and only a bathrobe. "Can I borrow a dress?"  
  
Without waiting for an answer she went into Claire's wardrobe and sighed. Row by row the vintage robes of the late Mrs. Winterstorm, Claire's mother, hung there under their dust-covers. But before she could pick an appropriate dress, they heard the entrance door open.  
  
Both women ran out of the wardrobe, and both of them stopped in their stride when they saw it was only Laurel and Jonah climbing the stairs. Both faces fell.  
  
"Go play with Rose, honey," Claire mumbled and opened the door a gap. Jonah shook off his mother's hand and disappeared straight to the nursery, without losing a minute. The wailing of the baby stopped immediately and turned into soft sobs.  
  
"I thought, we pay you a visit, since it is such a lively day and I won't have to teach any classes until the late afternoon."  
  
Serene's eyes narrowed. With a sinking feeling she saw how the cheery mask crumbled. She knew Laurel too well - her friend was unable to pretend for long . She'd have made a pathetic spy.   
  
"You knew!" she hissed.  
  
"Yes." Laurel bowed her head.   
  
"What are they up to?" Claire nervously curled a strand of hair around her finger.   
  
"They decided to end this horror of threats and murder," Laurel said calmly. But under the restrained exterior Claire sensed the fear and panic that strangled their friend.  
  
"To end it?"  
  
Serene paled and stepped back to catch a hold at the banister. All she'd feared from the moment she'd recognised Remus had left, were confirmed by Laurel's dire words.  
  
"They went into Voldemort's lair, didn't they?"  
  
Laurel nodded.  
  
For a long moment they stood there, each of them struggling with acceptance of the truth. Then Claire straightened. "Let's sit down in the living room and think about it," she said softly. "That they did not return by now, does not mean they ..."  
  
Serene clenched her fists. "Don't say it!"  
  
Laurel looked hat her friend with pity. "Severus once told me, the magic is not in the words but in the head and heart." She joined hands with both Claire and Serene. "Let's face it and brave the words. Something has happened, or else they would be back."  
  
An elf appeared in the open door, hesitantly clearing it's throat. "Miss Claire?"  
  
"Peagreen," Claire smiled, bravely disguising the deep sorrow that filled her heart.  
  
"Professor McGonagall she sends urgent owl. She have Misses Claire, Laurel and Serene come by the castle very very fast." The elf threw up both tiny hands in a gesture of desperation. "Headmaster Albus, he be found by the gates, he be almost dead."  
  
Serene drew in an audible gasp. "Did Minerva say anything else? About Professor Lupin or Snape?"  
  
"About your Master?" Clare added, her voice strained with fear.  
  
Peagreen shook her head so hard, the wispy tuft of green hair flew. "She been crying, was Professor McGonagall, she say nothing more."  
  
"Crying." Laurel swallowed hard and went into the nursery to pick up Jonah who let out a loud wail of protest. "You can play with Rosy later." She turned to her friends. "Minerva never cries."  
  
"Only if …" Serene did not dare finishing the sentence, not even the thought. McGonagall with her iron will and backbone would only allow tears when the unthinkable happened.   
  
Claire nodded slowly, understanding without words. "Let's go." She scooped up the baby and felt the tiny hand touch her cheek almost comfortingly.   
  
  
* * *  
  
  
The four brooms had landed outside the Hogwarts gates, where Hagrid had found the Headmaster's lifeless body in the early morning hours, still tied to the broomsticks.  
  
Now the big gamekeeper sat outside the hospital, dwarfing the furniture and clinging to his umbrella like a lifeline.  
  
When he saw the three women hurry down the corridor, he blew his nose and gave them a shaky smile. "You should not take the children in there," he muttered hoarsely. "It's no pretty sight."  
  
Without comment Claire deposited Rose into the gamekeeper's arms, where she looked even smaller than usually. Jonah frowned and stuck out his chin, annoyed with the arrangement.   
  
Laurel patted his head and kneeled down to look into his eyes. "You'll stay with Rose," she said gently and pointed at the half giant who stared at the baby with a mixture of fascination and utter horror. "Rose's mom is busy, and Hagrid will need your help if the baby starts crying."  
  
Jonah nodded sincerely and climbed a chair next to Hagrid, while his mother and her friends entered the Hospital.  
  
  
  
  
  
The room was dimly lit and so silent the steps on the wooden floor echoed.  
  
Madame Pomfrey stood by a side-table and mixed two steaming potions. A sharp scent filled the air. The nurse nodded curtly at Claire, Serene and Laurel, and her eyes led them to the narrow bed behind a lowered curtain.  
  
Minerva McGonagall sat on a stool, as always straight as a rod. Only on second glance they noticed that the older witch's shouldered shook in silent sobs. She held the Headmaster's hand in between hers like a precious fragile thing.  
  
When Laurel saw Dumbledore, she winced. The old wizard's face was pale as death, the skin translucent and tightly drawn over the skull. Even his beard seemed to have thinned. The chest rose and fell in painful gasps as if he had a hard time breathing. Every now and then a hard tremor shook the lean body.  
  
Serene raised a hand to her mouth and bit on the knuckles so she would not cry out loud. Albus seemed to fight for every other breath. Death had touched him and now only bid his time until the wizard's physical power ran out.  
  
"What ails him?" she whispered.  
  
Minerva did not look up. She'd sat here since Hagrid had brought Albus into the castle, and against all reason she felt as if only her fixed stare kept the tiny spark of life alight. "It is Nothing," she answered with a calmness that made the younger women feel clumsy and awkward.  
  
"Nothing?" Laurel frowned. The old wizard's chest was bare, no dressing covered the black hole scorched through skin and breastbone. "This … is it a burn?"  
  
"No." Numb with shock Serene stared at the wound. It reminded her of the portal Draco had opened on top of the Fifth Tower weeks ago. "It is exactly what she said. Nothingness."  
  
Poppy glanced at her in surprise. "You are right. We have no remedy for it. It sucks out his life, his will to survive, much like a Dementor."  
  
A shuddering sob from Minerva made her lower her voice. "I can't do anything for him, and it drives me crazy."  
  
Claire touched McGonagall's shoulder. "I can try to make him comfortable." Her voice was soothing like a cool cloth, and really Minerva gave way and let the healer step between her and the sickbed. Concentrating only on the body in front of her, Claire held her hands inches over the heaving chest before she slowly lowered them.  
  
At first there was no reaction at all. Then, gradually, the painful gasps eased, the breathing became softer, steadier.  
  
Laurel put a hand on her friend's shoulder when she noticed how all colour left Claire's face.  
  
"It's enough."  
  
No answer.  
  
Alarmed Serene grabbed Claire's hand and tried to remove it from the old wizard's chest. Claire seemed riveted to the patient, her eyes empty and glassy, her skin clammy.  
  
"Claire!"  
  
Only with combined forces they managed to draw her away, and even then Claire needed a long time to regain her conscience. Shaking her head aghast, she stared at the wound in the Headmaster's body. "This is evil," she muttered, rubbing her temples and shivering, suddenly cold to the bone.   
  
Madam Pomfrey wrapped a warm blanket around her shoulders and forced a goblet with steaming liquid into her hands. "Hot chocolate. I want to see this empty before I let you leave," she ordered.  
  
Sip by sip Claire drank the hot liquid, while Serene rubbed her shoulders to get her warm again. Because it could not do any harm, Poppy passed out hot chocolate to everyone. They were a fine assembly, Laurel thought by herself. Five women, all with puffy eyes and sorrow carved into their faces.  
  
Minerva's eyes, red-rimmed from crying and still not missing any detail, met Laurel's. "Albus is not the only one who left around midnight, isn't he?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Severus, Sirius and Remus are missing as well."  
  
The Professor did not inquire how it came that Claire knew of Sirius' whereabouts when the wizard was supposed to be somewhere far away from both Aurors and Death Eaters. Instead she kept her gaze on Albus' pale face, her voice low and strained.   
  
"Ah Albus, you fools." She shook her head hopelessly. "So many years we waited. So many times we watched the lights in the darkness and we both agreed that it didn't need a hero to fight that last battle, but many brave souls. And now …" The words hitched in her throat and her hands clamped like steel around the Headmaster's limp fingers. "Now you go, the four of you, to be heroes and get yourself killed. Where's reason in that, Albus?"  
  
None of the three younger women dared to say or do anything, face to face with such abysmal desperation. Only Poppy was alert and practical enough to gently ease the patient's hand out of Minerva's.  
  
"Get some rest," she suggested softly. "There is nothing you can do, and the school needs you when …" She did not need to finish the sentence. They all knew that the chance to see Albus Dumbledore resume his duties as Headmaster where as thin as the faint breath that was the only sign of life.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
When Serene entered the backroom of her shop in Hogsmeade, she knew at once she was not alone. She'd left it to Jerome to comfort Abby after she'd told her future in-laws what had happened, and had sought refuge in her favourite place, amidst beautiful fabric and silk.  
  
Her wedding-robe hung of it's stand, fairy-like, shimmering as moonlight. With a finger she traced the intricate embroidery at the bodice, and froze in midmotion, when she heard Ben's voice.  
  
"A white wedding dress." A soft chuckle, void of any humour or warmth. "And in virginal white."  
  
"Ben," she said and turned slowly. "I knew you'd show up sooner or later to brag."  
  
"Brag?" He sneered at her and gave the stand a hard push that shoved it back against the wall. "I did not come to brag. I came to offer you a deal."  
  
Hot hope shot through her heart and made her giddy for a moment. Then she remembered who she was talking to. "A deal concerning Black, Snape and Remus?"  
  
Olsen tilted his head back and laughed. "Ah, that's my girl! Offer her one finger, and she wants your hand, your arm, your elbow!" The laughter died as suddenly as it had risen. "Black took the Dark Mark to spy on us and he'll pay for it. And Snape …" he folded both hands and scowled. "Let's just say, the Dark Lord wants to settle that bill himself. But Lupin ... him we can spare."  
  
Serene swallowed and dug her nails into her palm to remain calm. "You'd let him go?"  
  
"Not exactly." His eyes shone like that of a cat who'd finally cornered the mouse and was intent to have his fun with it before he killed it off. "I'll trade him."  
  
Her eyes widened in shock. He did not need to say it, she knew very well what he wanted.  
  
"Harry."  
  
"Right. Potter." Ben stared fixedly at a point over her shoulder. "You could have had the world for delivering him to us. Now all you get is the werewolf."  
  
The glance she gave him was cold as ice. "If I bring you Harry, I want Remus. Immediately. Unharmed and free to go. And the others."  
  
Ben shook his head and crossed his arms. "No. Only Lupin. And I grant you this - if you try to frame us, or even if you are late, he'll die most painfully!"  
  
"How do I know you let Remus go?"  
  
A shrug and a scowl warned her not to try his patience. "You don't. But if you refuse to bring the boy, I'll assure you Lupin will die."  
  
"When?" Nausea made her grip the side of the work table.  
  
"Tomorrow night."  
  
She paled. "Ben! This is impossible, and you know it." Her hand flew up. "I beg you …"  
  
"Not!" Suddenly the mask fell. The hatred that burned in his eyes made her retreat instinctively. "You … whore! Don't you dare to beg me for that man's life! I'd gladly tear him to shreds with my very hands. Maybe then I'll forget you let him touch you."   
  
Madness, thought Serene and pressed a hand to her mouth. He'd finally cracked.  
  
"Voldemort gave him to me, and believe me the prospect of torturing Lupin to death is a sweet one. But I'll refrain, and this sacrifice will secure my position at Voldemort's side. I'll bring him Harry Potter, and then our battle is won."  
  
Her hand closed around the muggle scissors, just in case. She knew he'd be faster with a wand than she, she'd watched him fight a few duels with Snape in their time as students. But he'd not expect a blade, would he? But killing him here and now would not better Remus' situation ...  
  
Ben clenched his fists and a blue vein on the side of his neck pulsed dangerously. "Tomorrow by midnight," he spat. "If you are late, Lupin is dead meat."  
  
She nodded, dazed with fear. "How shall I find you?"  
  
"I'll send a broom, strong enough to carry you and the boy. And remember - if anybody follows you, you'll have to dye that dress." He pointed at the wedding robes on their rack, and bowed with a sneer in her direction. "To black."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
"I should have known you'd betray us." Sirius narrowed his eyes and stared at his former friend and classmate. Either he'd lost his sense of time, or the Death Eaters had concentrated darkness and night at their lair permanently. He could barely make out anything further away than a few meters. "Was it worth it, Wormtail? Was it worth giving up your life and sacrificing James' and Lily's?"  
  
His voice dripped with disgust and contempt. He knew it was Pettigrew standing before him, but there was nothing he recognised of the timid boy who'd shared their dorm. The whole body appeared to have been replaced gradually by metal parts, and only the left side of Peter's face was still of soft flesh and able to show emotion.  
  
Right now, while he slowly circled the stakes the prisoners had been tied to, the human side of the face showed only hatred. The flickering shine of the fire in the middle of the graveyard reflected in the metal. But when he turned to Sirius, there was something - only for the bat of an eyelid - a trace of shame.  
  
"What would you know about life, Black?" he sneered, his voice slurred by the partly rigid side of his mouth. "You always had everything I wanted. Success, girls, self-assurance."   
  
Sirius only closed his eyes, while his thoughts went back to his younger days, so filled with insecurity and fear. How could Peter believe it had been only him who'd suffered during his teenage years? He was sure Remus had not had it easy, as well. What had instilled such petty envy and jealousy in Peter? What had awakened the wish to torture?  
  
Voldemort's second in command had taken his time with him. Obviously being the Dark Lord's companion had taught Peter a great deal about pain - and he'd clearly enjoyed not to be on the receiving end for once. While Ben Olsen had rushed Remus through a rapid succession of Crucio curses, Peter had considered every move, every step to achieve the desired result. Agony.  
  
Sirius had refused to give the metal man the satisfaction of hearing him scream, although he'd come close twice. Only the fact that he could hear what Voldemort did to Severus had kept him silent. His tongue was swollen and raw from biting it. All he wanted was being left alone now but Pettigrew's next words made his eyes open wide.   
  
"Ben says he saw your little wife today," Peter chuckled and probed with one of his clawlike fingers the depth of a wound in Sirius' right arm.  
  
"Claire:" The beloved name was out before Sirius could reign the impulse.  
  
"Claire, yes, that's her name." Peter smirked. "It is kind of hard to keep all the names apart, isn't it, Padfoot?" The claw dug deeper and cold sweat appeared on Sirius's forehead. "But I must say, respect, old boy! That lady hates the guts of you."  
  
Sirius managed to keep his face noncommittal with an effort. Of course Claire had kept up the pretence of him and her having nothing in common but a short unhappy marriage. Still it hurt. He knew she'd lied to Olsen's face and he was proud about her level head, but it hurt.  
  
"On the other hand," Peter continued, "it is us who should be grateful about the way you betrayed and discarded the witch. It made her a devoted follower of our Lord Voldemort. More even, a rich devoted follower."  
  
"I don't give a damn," mumbled Sirius when the claw ripped the wound open, although all his senses screamed with the pain.  
  
"She'd even pay a considerable sum to see you die." Disappointed by his victims reluctance in expressing his pain, Pettigrew stepped away. "And once she's received the Dark Mark, witch will by tomorrow midnight, she and the Winterstorm fortune will be ours. But you'll be dead by then, so that should be of minor interest for you."  
  
Sirius froze amidst the heat from the fire and the burning agony Pettigrew had inflicted. Claire was to come here? Oh Merlin, could she be so foolheaded?   
  
He glanced around him desperately, trying to make out more than flickering shapes. To his far left stood Remus, tied by silver chains. The stench of silver eating into the Werewolf's flesh was unmistakable. The soft moans of pain Sirius could hear once in a while, had to be Remus' then.   
  
Snape hung on the stake between them, at least Sirius thought the dark figure to his left was that of the Potions master.  
  
"Snape!" he whispered but got no reply.   
  
His head sunk. He felt warm blood trickle down his arm from the fresh wound. All was lost. He could only hope to be dead by tomorrow night. For Claire's sake.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Laurel kissed Jonah's cheek and tucked him under for his nap, and for once he closed his eyes without protest. It was obvious he pretended to be asleep, because he felt how upset she was. That her distress was affecting the child, made the whole situation only more strenuous. Her temples throbbed. She'd kept her daily schedule, although teaching first years the difference between a Goblin rebellion and a goblin riot was the last thing on her mind. But with both Professors Snape and Lupin missing, she had felt obligated to stick to her classes.  
  
Serene had returned home to gently inform the Lupins of Remus' fate, Claire had brought Rose back to Winterstorm Manor, and Poppy had coaxed Minerva into getting some rest. On Professor Flitwick's offer Laurel had gratefully accepted the excuse from lunch in the Hall and stayed with Jonah. But there'd be another class in the afternoon, and after that she'd meet again with Serene and Claire. They had to come up with a plan. Time was running out.  
  
Tiredly she cleaned the table and decided to sit down again. She'd not slept last night, and needed only a moment to gather her courage and her wits.  
  
Her head resting on her arms, she fell asleep.  
  
When she saw Severus sitting in his chair by the fire, she knew it was only a dream. Some part of her mind, still reasonable, told her so. Nevertheless her heart beat faster. When she tried to say something, he raised a hand.  
  
"I don't have much time, Laurel."  
  
His face was pale. Blood had tried in the corner of his mouth, and the words came painfully slow. The dark eyes burned into hers. "They might hear us. So you need to listen, carefully."   
  
"A riddle. Sometimes we see what we want to see." He rose from the chair and winced when he strained the left leg. "Sometimes we see what we fear to see. But it's the truth that will set us free."   
  
His finger touched her cheek, and in the dream she cried the tears she'd denied herself in her waking hours. "Remember what makes you different, love. Use it."  
  
She reached for him, tried to hold him back, but he faded away like morning fog.  
  
When Laurel awoke, she felt confused and dazed, but the image of the Potions master and his words stayed with her all day.   
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Laurel looked up when the door opened and the unveiled hope in her eyes broke Serene's heart. Jonah ate his dinner unusually calm and orderly, as if he felt his mother's despair. Serene kissed his cheek.  
  
"I'll read you tonight's story, alright?"   
  
The boy hugged her and gave her a big kiss. "Mommy, too." Then he whispered into Serene's ear. "Mommy has aua."  
  
"Aua?"  
  
"Mommy cries."  
  
Serene looked up quickly. "Mommy is only tired. So I'll tuck you in and then I make your mommy better." She only wished she could. In fact she'd make her friend's grief and despair only worse by telling her about her decision.  
  
Jonah gave Laurel a hug and went to bed, not without throwing a last glance at the Potion master's empty chair.  
  
  
  
  
  
When Serene returned from the nursery after half an hour, Laurel still sat by the table, deep in thoughts. Only when Serene sat down next to her, she looked up and gave her a grateful if forced smile that did not reach her eyes.  
  
"I did not want Jonah to see me fret," she said. "I thought I could pretend all was well, until he was asleep."  
  
"He misses his father, too." Serene took her hand. "I bring bad news. I wish I could spare you, but I can't."  
  
Laurel winced and could barely suppress the instinct to clamp her ears. "Severus. He is dead?" Her voice hitched. "He can't be dead. I still … feel him."  
  
"No. Not that." Serene shook her head. "Let's wait for Claire. This concerns both of you."   
  
In silence they waited, and when Claire eventually entered, Laurel's nerves were unbearably strained.  
  
She ushered her into a chair, set a cup and saucer in front of her, pushed sugar and milk over the table, and snapped her fingers to put up the kettle again. Then she stared at Serene.  
  
"Claire is here. Now talk!"  
  
Serene sighed and laid both hands flat onto the table. Avoiding to meet anybody's gaze, she searched for words.  
  
"Ben showed up at the cottage," she said softly.  
  
Claire's head jerked up. "He paid me a visit as well."  
  
"Had a busy day, our friend," scowled Laurel.  
  
"He offered me Remy's life. For a price." She looked up, her face void. "I'll deliver Harry."  
  
"You can't do this, Serene," Laurel protested sharply, while Claire could not hold back the tears any longer. "You know what will happen to the boy as soon as they can lay their hands on him."  
  
"They'll kill Remy. Ben told me twice and he was not joking, believe me." She stared out of the window Severus had charmed into the dungeon walls for Laurel. "I can't live without Remus." A shiver went through her body. "I simply can't."  
  
"But can you live, knowing you had to sacrifice Harry? Can Remus live with it?"   
  
Serene pressed her forehead against the cold window pane. "If sacrificing Harry could save Severus, would you give it a second thought?"  
  
Laurel paled and her hands gripped the armrests of the chair. Would she? Could she buy the life of the man she loved by destroying the world. "It is not just a life for a life," she said slowly, "but Remus' life for the defeat of the Light. Many more deaths. Innocents. Children. Squibs."  
  
Serene winced. She'd never wasted a thought to the fate of those among the wizarding community who where born magicless. Not until she'd met and befriended Claire. Deep in her heart she knew Laurel was right. Neither Remus nor she herself could live with such a burden of guilt.  
  
"But what can we do? How can we get there, if not through Harry?"  
  
Claire looked up, suddenly deadly calm, her clear grey eyes cold as ice. "I'll be there."   
  
Laurel's brows knitted when she stared at the petite blond woman, who radiated such steady power. "With the Death Eaters? Are you crazy, Claire?"  
  
"I have been there before," said Claire, raising one faire eyebrow. "I'll attend the execution tomorrow night. My attendance is requested by the Dark Lord himself. Or more specifically, my money is requested."  
  
"It is too dangerous!" Serene grabbed Claire's shoulders and shook her hard. "Have you lost your mind? You are a squib! What if they force you to take the Mark? It will probably kill you right on the spot!"  
  
"Serene, you are not the only one who is willing to sacrifice her soul for the man she loves," Laurel said softly. "But Claire, Sirius would not want you to do that. Think about Rose."  
  
"Rose needs a father." Claire's words left no doubt she'd made up her mind and would not be persuaded otherwise. "And if I have to buy him, I will."  
  
"Buy him?" Serene repeated after her, incredulously. "What in the world are you talking about?"  
  
"They want the Winterstorm fortune," Claire shrugged. "They'll get it, if I get Sirius. I'll claim that I want the privilege to take revenge for the shame he brought to the family name." Her hands trembled and she folded her arms to keep them still. "I'll buy the other two as well."  
  
"Claire …" Laurel shook her head. "I don't think ..."  
  
"It won't work." Serene's throat ached when she had to make her friend face the bitter truth. "It is Peter Pettigrew who claims Sirius, and Voldemort has already granted him permission to kill him. And Severus …" She avoided Laurel's glance. "Severus is …"  
  
"Voldemort's." The word came soft, far too calm. "The Dark Lord promised him he'd pay for defying him."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Is there nothing we can do?" A teacup shattered against the dungeon wall, and two pairs of eyes widened in shock when Claire pushed her chair back and banged her fists against the table. "You are witches, damn it! Is there no spell, no curse we can use? I don't care whether it is black or white magic, Fair or Dark Arts!"  
  
"Dark Arts!" Serene's spat the words out and her green eyes shot fire. "There is no art in this, it's plain old blackmail and duress!" Her hands shook so hard she had to set the teacup down. "Do you remember, Laurel, when we were students and Remus used to teach us all that stuff about Vampires and Boggarts and Kappas? It all seemed terribly romantic, then. Even when Dumbledore told me his little parable about the darkness and the light, it sounded … thrilling. And now it comes down to death and destruction."  
  
"How could you ever find anything like that fascinating?" Claire stared at her friend in disbelieve. "Just to remember the one Death Eater's meeting I attended gives me the creeps! even the air there smelled of evil."  
  
"It's power that's fascinating," muttered Serene, "not evil per se. To live without restraints, without rules. I see what attracts some to Voldemort." Her cheeks reddened in shame. "Why it attracted me."  
  
Claire's hand covered hers. "I did not mean it like that.  
  
"But it is the truth. And only Remy stood between me and them."  
  
"Do you believe in dreams, that they can give you some kind of … vision?" Laurel rubbed her burning eyes. Something in Serene's recollection of Lupin's lectures had made her think, and a question she'd pondered all day long, had found an answer. A foolish one, but still an answer.  
  
Serene shrugged. "I never cared much for visions, you know that. But I … dreamed of Remus, once. Long before I actually met him."  
  
"Did you dream of a way to free the men?" Claire's practical sense brought them back. "There is something ... maybe …"  
  
"What are you thinking of?"  
  
"Something that happened in our first year at Hogwarts." Suddenly breathless with anxiety she grabbed Serene's sleeve. "Listen …"  
  
When she was done, she looked at them insecurely.  
  
Serene frowned and shook her head. "This is risky."  
  
"It's risky and completely crazy." Claire nodded solemnly. "And that's why it is going to work." She gave them a shaky grin. "I hope."  
  
Laurel's face broke into a smile the first time since Severus had left, and she rose to get more tea.  
  
"I can only hope that this is what you meant me to do, my love," she said softly to herself while her fingers caressed Snape's favourite mug. Then she turned to her friends, her mind made up, her back straight. "The truth will set us free ...."  
  
  
* * *  



	3. Part III

EPILOGUE - Part III  
  
  
  
It was the day of the shortest night of the year, Midsummer, which probably was a perfect explanation why the sun would not set, but to Laurel it seemed as if fate had decided to grant her a few more minutes with her child. Did this mean she'd never see Jonah again?  
  
Peeling an apple with a knife instead of a wand, just to keep her shaking hands busy, she watched him sit on the rug in front of the fireplace and wrestle with Lythy, the toy snake.  
  
He was so ... young. So untouched by evil although he'd been in Voldemort's lair as a baby, and Peter Pettigrew had almost sacrificed him in Harry's place. Still, he was a normal two year old ... well, if you overlooked the things he did whenever he got hold of anybody's wand.  
  
Severus had spoken of getting Jonah a special wand for gifted kids. Who would care for their little boy, who would educate him when, for the second time in a life so young, he lost both parents?  
  
"Mommy tired again?"  
  
Jonah looked up at her, his forehead wrinkled with worry.  
  
"No. No, honey, I am alright." Laurel gave him a forced smile but it was obvious she could not even fool a child. Was she mad to think she could fool a socerer as mighty and shrewd as Tom Riddle alias Lord Voldemort?  
  
Kneeling next to Jonah she gave him a quick hug and then started to tickle him viciously until he broke down giggling. Letting him wrestle her down in revenge and cover her face with big smacking kisses, she closed her eyes for a heartbeat. Love had stopped evil once, almost sixteen years ago. Why not another time?  
  
  
  
Serene was grateful to see that Abby Lupin had already cooked dinner when she returned from Hogwarts where she had taken last preparations for the plan with Laurel. For one thing, nothing she could have fumbled on the stove would have stood a chance compared with Abby's great cooking, and then it took the woman's mind of Remus' unexplainable absence. Serene had already decided not to tell the Lupins the truth. There was nothing they could do, and they'd know soon enough. She wanted them to have one more night in relative peace.  
  
It was way past nine and still the sky was fair.   
  
Nature had outdone itself and given the flowers and bushes along the lake a growth spurt. For a moment Serene paused and watched the squid backstroking across the lake. So this was peace. Such a fragile thing.  
  
If Laurel's plan went wrong, they'd all be dead tomorrow and never see the sunset again. Life had never seemed so fragrant, immediate, pulsing. So valuable.  
  
When she opened the garden door, not only delicious scents of cooking meat and vegetables and wine wafted out of the open cottage door, but also delicate music. In the cosy living room, a familiar face smiled at Serene.  
  
"Julia!"  
  
The musician leaned her harp carefully against the wall and rose to kiss her future sister-in-law's cheek. "As always I was late. But Papa here told me that Remy has turned tail anyway. Funny, what the thought of a wedding does to a man. Even to a werewolf." She chuckled, quite amused about the situation.  
  
Serene swallowed and forced a thin smile onto her face. "Funny, yeah." Lifting one of the pot-covers, she pretended to be all immersed in the scent of Abby's stew and therefore missed the worried glance Jerome and his wife exchanged.  
  
They sat down to dinner, and Serene did her best to keep up the conversation. They talked about Julia's next concert with her band "Salamander", they talked about the Lupins' other three daughters and their off-spring.  
  
"We can only hope you and Remy present them with grand-children soon," Julia teased and smiled at her parents in indulgence. "Since all my sisters are married abroad, Mom and Papa would just love to have a few grandchildren nearby to spoil them as much as possible."  
  
"That is the grand-parents' privilege after all, dear," Abby laughed and gave her daughter a wink. "But if you are so worried, maybe you could better our situation as well?"  
  
Julia blushed to the roots of her fair curls, and Serene watched with delight how the family fell into the happy banter she so enjoyed.  
  
"Rumour says you have been seeing Castor Black in Liverpool?" Jerome teased his daughter and poured them steaming mugs of tea, before they all settled on the bench in front of the cottage to watch the Midsummer sunset.  
  
"Papa!" Julia's face made Serene laugh, so distressed looked the young witch. "You should not believe what people say."  
  
"Sometimes people are right, dear." Abby patted her daughter's knee.  
  
"Sometimes they are not." Serene could have bitten her tongue off, but it was too late. Her shaky voice made the humorous exchange cease at once.  
  
"Sometimes ..." She looked at them. "Maybe soon people will tell stories about me. That I was ... I mean, am ... evil. That I joined Voldemort or even served as his spy in Hogwarts. Promise me you won't believe these stories!"  
  
Abby frowned and took Serene's hand. The girl was running a fever with nerves, she thought, suddenly alarmed by the fire in Serene's green eyes. "We were only teasing Julia, dear," she said. "We know you. We love you. You are not evil. And if anybody dares to assert that, he'll have to answer to your family."  
  
At Serene's bland stare, Julia gave her a nudge. "That's us, dummy! Your family from now on. And nobody messes with the Lupins!"  
  
  
  
After dinner Claire sat in the living room, watching Castor bouncing the baby on his knees. Rose squealed with delight, and Claire bit her tongue when the Auror threw the four month old baby into the air like a quaffle and made her levitate there.  
  
Only after several repetitions both wizard and child got tired of the game, and Claire put her daughter back into the basket that stood by her chair. Very soon Rose would need a real bed, she thought. She grew so fast, would soon make her first steps, get her letter, graduate, get married. Tears shot into her eyes.  
  
"Cas, if anything ever happens to me, would you take care of Rose? I'll ask Professor McGonagall as well since she's been my only friend through my own childhood. But Minerva is old and .."  
  
"What about Lupin? Isn't he Rose's godfather?"  
  
Claire carefully shut the book in her lap and rose to return it to the bookcase - a sly move to avoid an immediate answer and keep her face in the shadow, he had to admit.  
  
"Something might happen to Lupin as well. After all he is a Werewolf."  
  
"What is going on here, Claire?" Castor was not an Auror for nothing, he had a good eye for his surroundings and something was positively wrong. "I've watched you all evening, and there is something that tears you apart."  
  
She only looked at him. They had decided not to inform anybody but Minerva of the men's disappearance - neither the Lupins nor Castor, who had arrived all of a sudden, claiming to visit his sister-in-law and niece, while it was clear he was following Julia Lupin.  
  
In a desperate attempt to turn the conversation away from herself, Claire used what she had. "Did you know that Remus' sister is visiting Serene Kennedy right now?" she said casually ignoring his imploring stare.  
  
Castor blushed and quickly turned away, but she'd already seen it and was almost ashamed to tease him where he was obviously sincerely in pain.   
  
"Well, I am an Auror. It is my job to know things," he muttered and rearranged Rose's toys on the side-table.  
  
"Oh Castor, you are so brave, so courageous in your job, and yet such a coward where the heart is concerned." Claire smiled at him, and thought that this trait had to run in the Black family.  
  
He jumped up and started pacing the room, while Claire let a hand dangle down for Rose to play with. When the tiny fist closed around her finger and the breathing got steady and deep, she knew the baby was asleep. She'd have to leave in less than an hour, still enough to listen to Castor and try to push his heart in the right direction. Anything would be fine but thinking about her own situation.  
  
"The two of you were a couple once, weren't you?" she ventured kindly.  
  
He stopped in his tracks by the window and stared outside. In this moment he resembled Sirius so much she had to avert her eyes.  
  
"That was years ago, in our seventh year and right after graduation." He shrugged. "I am not good at keeping people."   
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
He raised both hands in a helpless gesture. "Just look at me. My twin is dead, and so is my youngest brother. Siri is ... well, who knows where. And Julia hates me for what I am."  
  
"An Auror."  
  
"An Auror." He fingered the star and moon at his collar that identified him as a member of the Werewolf Squad. "It is against everything she believes in."  
  
"From what she told me, she thinks you are a gifted musician and are not only wasting your talent, but also supporting a government she does not believe in."  
  
Castor turned and scowled at her, something he did with Julia most of the time, as Claire remembered. "I don't fight for the government. I fight against Voldemort. That is a difference, and if she is too pigheaded and blind to see ..."   
  
"Castor, she's ..."  
  
"No!" His crossed arms told her the discussion was over - another family trait. "Voldemort's Death Eaters killed my brother Pollux, and I shall not cease until the very last of them has been brought to justice." His face got soft in reminiscence. "Pollux was so ... lively. He was really the gifted one between the two of us. Played the harp, the lute, anything with strings. And we thought we'd live forever."   
  
Claire reached for his hand and he held on to her like a lifeline. "Do you know what it is like to be a twin? He's been dead for so many years, but every time I look into a mirror, I see his face."  
  
"Did you ever tell Julia how you feel?"  
  
"Of course. A hundred times." He swallowed. "Well, not exactly like this. But she claimed to love me, she should understand without words."  
  
"Merlin, you are just so much like your brother!" she sighed and hugged him out of impulse. "Talk to her, Cas. Tell her. Witches like words."  
  
He patted her back awkwardly and looked down at the crown of her head. She was up to something, and he'd find out what it was or he would hand in his Auror's stars.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Minerva McGonagall sat in the Headmaster's office and stared blindly at the wall. All day long she'd managed to keep her eyes dry and her voice empty, had taught her classes and started on the paperwork on Albus' table. But now, with darkness falling, her strength was wearing out. She'd never felt so hopelessly, not even in the darkest times, before Voldemort's first defeat. They had done what was right, and if doubts had risen, they had looked to Albus for guidance.  
  
Two Headmistresses from the 12th and 17th century watched her from their frames, and whispering discussed Dumbledore's condition. Minerva chose to ignore them, but when she overheard the words "fading away" and "death", her fingers clenched around the quill until it snapped.  
  
The sudden pain of a splinter of the quill digging deep into her palm made her almost miss the knock on the door.  
  
"Minerva?" Laurel peeked through the gap. "Sorry to disturb you but ..."  
  
"Come in. Come in." Sucking the small wound the Professor frowned, when not only Laurel but also Serene entered. "Did I forget an appointment?" She found her wand and treated her palm.  
  
The two young witches sat down, and only then Minerva noticed how pale they were. Scolding herself for her self pity, she put wand and the remains of the quills aside resolutely and concentrated on her visitors. After all she was not the only one who feared for a beloved person.  
  
"What can I do for you? Any news about Snape, Black and Lupin?"  
  
Serene shook her head. She understood that Laurel and Claire wanted their children to be taken care for, in case the worst happened. But the less people knew about the plan, the better. Not that she suspected Minerva McGonagall to be Voldemort's spy ... The thought of the stern Transfiguration professor as a Death Eater made her almost giggle with hysteria.  
  
"We are here to ...", Laurel cleared her throat, "to ask you to be Rose's and Jonah's guardian. If anything happens to Claire or me." She stared straight ahead at the painting of a snoring Headmaster, but Minerva's scrutinising gaze almost burned holes into her.  
  
"Guardian." Suddenly the word sounded like a death sentence.  
  
She nodded wordlessly.  
  
"If anything happens." Minerva rose and came around the desk until she stood right in front of the two witches. "What are you up to, girls?"  
  
Both Serene and Laurel kept their eyes riveted at the opposite walls, and that told the Headmistress enough. Serene had always been secretive and hard to read. But Laurel believed the truth ...  
  
"You have decided to go and commit suicide, haven't you?" Two red circles on Minerva's cheeks showed how aggravated she was. "Because that it what going right into the Death Eaters' headquarter is. You got no chance." She reached for Laurel's hand. "Is this what you want me to tell your little boy when he asks me about you one day? That you went and threw away your life?"  
  
"Tell him I loved his father." Laurel's voice was steady. "Please, Minerva, don't make it harder than it is anyway."  
  
"I suppose you have a plan," sighed Professor McGonagall and perched on the edge of the desk. "And I suppose you won't tell me."  
  
Serene gave her a sad smile. "It is scary how clever you are, Professor. And how well you know us."  
  
Laurel stood up. "Will you take care of the children? Financially they will never want anything, Claire and Severus made sure of that. But they'll need somebody to guide them, to keep them on the right path."  
  
'But I need guidance myself!' Minerva wanted to scream. But loud she said: "Don't worry. They will be safe. And you three take care."  
  
In an uncommon outburst of emotion she hugged them both. "Take care and come back!"  
  
Without another word the two young witches left, and Minerva sat down in Dumbledore's chair. Suddenly she felt ancient and tired. Was this how it had to be? To see them grow up, become fine wizards and witches, care for them and worry about them - only to lose them to Voldemort?  
  
When she raised her head, she found all the former Headmasters staring at her, each in their frame, arms crossed, faces expectant.  
  
She frowned at them. "What?"  
  
A little woman whose golden chain and frilled hat identified her as a Headmistress from the late 18th century, frowned back. "Well, what are you going to do about the situation?"  
  
"Do?" Minerva swallowed. "But I am alone. What can I do?"  
  
A grey-bearded wizard laughed out loud until the small Headmistress's withering glance silenced him. "This is what Hogwarts was founded for. So no wizard or witch would have to stand up to evil alone. But of course, if you'd rather hide in your office ..."   
  
She shrugged and turned her back to Minerva, and so did all the other pictures.  
  
Minerva let the words sink in, and slowly her face lost it's hopeless expression. They would not go down without fighting. Not this time.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Once the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, darkness fell quickly. The moon was not full yet, and so Claire brought a lantern to the Shrieking Shack, where she waited for Serene and Laurel.  
  
Rose slept safely in Jonah's nursery in Hogwarts, guarded by the Winterstorm House-Elves, who had refused to let the baby out of their care. Claire had dressed for the Death Eaters' meeting very carefully. Serene liked to say that clothes could be a shield and an armour, and tonight Claire had to admit her friend was probably right. The dark blue velvet robe gave her a regal look, arrogant and distanced. It radiated old money and older blood, and made the mere suspicion of Claire being a squib appear plain foolish.  
  
A loud rumble and a stream of Muggle curses announced Serene, dragging a big trunk up the narrow stairs that led to the Shack's basement.  
  
"I told you we should levitate the damn thing!" she hissed into the darkness.  
  
With as much amusement as the situation allowed, Claire watched the door close, shut by an invisible hand. When Laurel removed the hood of the invisibility cloak, she gave Serene an exasperated look.  
  
"From now on it is yours, anyway. I only thought that after you bumped into the tunnel walls the fifth time, it might be better to do it the old-fashioned Muggle way."  
  
"My hand is shaking a bit, ok?" With narrowed eyes Serene stroked back her wild red hair. "I am nervous. And don't you dare pretending you are not shaking with nerves as well!"  
  
"Peace." Claire shook her head. She kept her fingers hooked into the beaded belt of the robe, so she would not fuss with her hair. "I don't have much time. Ben will pick me up in ten minutes, and you better be out of sight then."  
  
Serene lowered her eyes, ashamed about her short temper. Their friend would venture into a Death Eaters' meeting all alone - and as a squib. Ben Olsen knew her secret. Apparently he had his reasons to keep his knowledge from his co-conspirators. But if he decided to betray Claire, she would never get out of Voldemort's lair alive.  
  
"Claire, I love you," she said softly and embraced the petite woman. "Please take care!"  
  
Helplessly Claire patted her friend's back. "We can do this, Serene. Take heart."  
  
Laurel reached for her hand and squeezed it. "But she is right, Claire. You must not take any unnecessary risks. Promise me!"  
  
With a little laugh Claire eased out of Serene's embrace. "I'll be safe. They need me. And I'd rather have the two of you take care. Especially you, Laurel!"   
  
They had agreed that Laurel would follow the broom Ben was going to send for Serene. Olsen's broom would not be strong enough to carry both witches and the heavy trunk without arising suspicion.  
  
Claire pointed at the broom that leaned on the wall of the Shack. "I still think it would be wise to use an invisibility charm on that piece."  
  
Serene had "borrowed" Harry Potter's cloak while the students had been at dinner in the Great Hall, and had carefully cut off part of it to fashion a tight fitting sheath for the broom. The rest of the fabric had to suffice to keep Laurel out of sight while she followed Serene to the Death Eaters' meeting place.  
  
"A charm would make the broom to unstable. It would not carry my weight, nor would it follow orders," Laurel explained. "Ministry regulations for brooms specify that they can't be used when invisible."  
  
"Still .."  
  
"Hush." Serene took Claire's hand and reached for Laurel's. For a moment they just looked at each other. "We'll survive," Laurel said soft as a whisper.  
  
"And those we love, will survive, too." Claire vowed.  
  
Serene's eyes were dead serious. "And we'll live happily ever after."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Just when Minerva left the Headmaster's office by the gliding stairway, she saw Abby and Jerome Lupin come down the corridor, followed by Julia and Castor Black.  
  
Before she could welcome them, Abby grabbed the witch's sleeve. "What is going on, Minerva? Where is my boy, and why did Serene sneak out of the cottage without telling us what she is up to?"  
  
Jerome gently pried his wife's fingers off McGonagall's arm. "Sorry for intruding at this late hour, but we are worried, Minerva" he apologised. "And I think we do have the right to know if anything happened to Remus."  
  
"Just as well you are here," Minerva sighed. "I was on my way to send an owl. Come with me and I explain the situation to you."  
  
  
A few hasty words and several stairways later they stood in front of a carved oak door. An ornamental face in the wooden carving opened it's eyes and snarled at them.  
  
"Password?"  
  
"Is this the common-room of Granger, Longbottom, Malfoy, Potter and Weasley?"  
  
Minerva asked impatiently. After Dumbledore had abolished the houses, various problems had aroused and not the smallest of them was the question of accommodation. But the castle had provided for the new situation as it had innumerable times before. All over new chambers and rooms had sprouted, small common rooms and adjoining dormitories.   
  
That everyone had lost orientation in the new maze of corridors, and students were late for class all the time, would be dealt with next term, Minerva vowed silently. And if she had to supply every student with a Marauder's map. The original one was in the hands of Mr. Filch right now who used it to rescue students who were lost.  
  
"Password!" the face demanded with an arrogant snarl.  
  
"Listen, wormwood, I am Headmistress of this school," Minerva hissed, at the end of her nerves. "Let us in or I promise you'll end up in the fireplace in the Great Hall!"  
  
Frowning the face considered that prospect and decided not to take a chance. Although it was only a few weeks old, it let it's hinges squeal loud enough to warn the inhabitants of the room of the unannounced visitors.   
  
  
Harry and Ron were deeply immersed in a game of chess, while Draco sat by the fire, and Neville battled with his essay about the Magical Revolution. Hermione poured tea from a kettle and helped herself to a plate with crumpets.  
  
"Get me one too," Draco demanded without looking up from the leather-bound volume he read.  
  
Hermione's eyes widened. "Pardon?"  
  
"Get me one too. I am hungry." The voice drawled just enough to infuriate Hermione. With a few strides she was by his chair and snapped the book close so suddenly Draco almost lost a finger.  
  
"What makes you think you can order me around, Malfoy?" she demanded. "Do I have elf on my forehead?"   
  
Neville looked up and gave her a long considering stare. "Well, there is an E, and an L ..."  
  
Both boys toppled over laughing, when Hermione rushed to a mirror to stare at her furious face.  
  
"Ha ha, how very funny," she snapped. "And you, Neville, should think twice before you bond with Malfoy. Unless you want to proof-read that essay yourself."  
  
  
A dry cough from Professor McGonagall let them freeze self-consciously. The Headmistress took in the scene and distractedly found Albus' hopes fulfilled. With just enough time and some pushing even the worst enemies could become friends. Well, sort of, she sighed inwardly when she considered Hermione's angry glance at Draco.  
  
"Miss Granger, I ask you as a prefect to spread the word that I want everybody in the Great Hall in thirty minutes sharp."  
  
Hermione nodded and slipped out of the room without further questions, efficient and reliable as always.  
  
"Mr. Potter, Longbottom and Weasley, be so kind and help Miss Granger."  
  
Her face let no doubt that she wanted them out of the common room immediately. With a shy glance at Castor, Harry left, with Ron and Neville in his wake.  
  
"And you, Mr. Malfoy, I need in my office. Right now."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
There were torches.  
  
Bowls with burning oil. Stacks of burning wood.  
  
Claire could feel the heat, and at the same time was chilled to the bone. There were shadows of figures in hooded cloaks, many more than they had assumed. Dozens, maybe hundred Death Eaters all over the graveyard, their backs turned to the small group in the very centre of the sunken walls and tombs.  
  
Somebody had magicked a throne out of white bones and slabs of marble for the Dark Lord, and Claire had to fight to keep her eyes off it, for every glance in Voldemort's direction made her want to wretch. Olsen, standing next to her, seemed unmoved. Couldn't he smell the disgusting odour of decay and rot that wafted over from the wizard on the throne?  
  
"The Master seems to be ..." she swallowed and concentrated on breathing through her mouth, "... indisposed."  
  
Ben shrugged. "This will change in less than half an hour." Knitting his brows, he watched the southern sky. "The remedy for his condition will arrive soon."  
  
Claire bit her lip. So they had been right. The bones Voldemort needed to sustain his life were almost used up, and as far a she could see, so was the second ingredient - the flesh of his faithful servant, Pettigrew. Time was running out for the Death Eaters and their Lord, and they knew it.  
  
"In ten minutes?" She kept her eyes riveted at the shadows between the fires. Three stakes. One of them had to hold Sirius. "I thought ..."   
  
"The ceremony?" Ben scowled. "Both ceremonies, the initiation and the execution, have been postponed until the Master is his old self."  
  
Claire nodded slowly, anxious not to let him see her relief. She had been ready to receive the Dark Mark to buy time for Serene and Laurel. She shrugged, as carelessly as she could manage. "Never mind. I waited so long to see Black die. I can hold on a few minutes more."  
  
Ben raised an eyebrow. Too bad the woman was a squib ... With her money and her connections she'd make a perfect wife for the next Dark Lord. One would have to wait and see how that child of hers turned out.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
"Since there are no secrets in Hogwarts," a humourless smile curled Minerva's thin lips, "I am sure each of you has heard that Headmaster Dumbledore was severely injured two nights ago. We still don't know if he'll survive."  
  
A common gasp went through the assembly in the Great Hall. Even the ghosts who had guarded Dumbledore's sickbed until they had left to join the assembly, froze at the dire words.  
  
"Three of our teachers are held prisoner by Voldemort." Harry perched on his seat, suddenly pale with unease. The mere presence of Castor Black had made him worried about Sirius. But his godfather was far away, wasn't he? McGonagall's eyes met Harry, and the boy's face paled. "Professor White, who the older of you will remember. Professor Lupin, and Professor Snape. As far as we know they are going to be executed by midnight."  
  
She drew a big breath and tried to banish Albus' lifeless face from her mind. "Hogwarts has always stood up for those who were its own, and we shall not throw the wand so easily. We'll come to their rescue."  
  
Silence told her of the chilling fright the mere thought of openly standing up against the Dark Lord aroused in the students. Even her fellow teachers had at first balked at her plan, and she understood perfectly well. Everyone had only one life, after all.  
  
"Those of you who choose to come with me, will stand up. If you decide otherwise, nobody will hold it against you. Only sixth and seventh years will be allowed to join, and Head girls and boys and prefects will be asked to stay to protect the younger students."  
  
Hermione Granger rose, threw one last loving gaze at her shining prefect badge and laid it onto the table.  
  
"I resign," she said loud and clearly.  
  
McGonagall nodded. "I see."  
  
Slowly, one by one, students rose. Ginny Weasley tried to sneak her way up into the ranks of older students and was frog-marched back to the fifth years by her brother Ron.  
  
Draco Malfoy looked around him. A few weeks ago he had desired nothing more than to stand face to face with Voldemort. Now ugly fear tightened his throat when he rose. He was a Malfoy after all, wasn't he? Keeping their eyes riveted at their former leader, those students who had been Slytherin before the house were abolished, stood up and joined him.  
  
Satisfied Minerva saw that only a handful of the older students had decided to stay.  
  
"If we do not return until tomorrow morning, I want you to help the younger ones to pack, and get on the train. Hagrid will come with us, so I declare Madam Pomfrey Headmaster in my absence."  
  
"No." Poppy shook her head ferociously. "I shall not stay behind. There will be casualties, and I wager you'll be grateful to have a mediwitch by your side."  
  
"But who'll care for Albus? The elves can't handle this, all alone. In case of emergency they'll need some human to give orders." McGonagall's eyes scrutinised the room. "Potter."  
  
Harry frowned and stepped back behind Ron, as if his friend could serve as an invisibility shield.   
  
"You'll stay with the Headmaster."  
  
"No!"   
  
Minerva sighed and called the boy up to the High Table. The whole school watched and dropped eaves, but this was not the time for sensibilities.  
  
"There were two people that held Voldemort back," she said softly. "Albus and you. He almost got to Dumbledore, and I can't leave the Headmaster here, unprotected. And if we fail and you fall into the Dark Lord's hand, all is lost." Her hand grasped the boy's. "You know that."  
  
Harry bowed his head. "Yes. But ..."  
  
"No but!" Temper flared for an instance and Harry looked up to the witch who'd been his teacher the last six years, always stern, dull and humourless. Now she'd changed over night and turned into a ... leader. "You stay here and defend Albus, and that is that!"  
  
"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled flabbergasted and sat down on the steps that led to the high table.  
  
"What about the children?" whispered Madam Pomfrey urgently. "Jonah is also in mortal danger if Hogwarts falls. But we can not spare a wizard or witch on our endeavour."  
  
"You are right," said McGonagall. "Ginny Weasley babysat Rose a few times. She should be able to care for both kids."  
  
"She is still a child herself," opposed Poppy. "We need a grown up person."  
  
"Somebody we can't use against Voldemort but who is old enough to handle this. Abby will be here, and she is brave and smart. But she is not familiar with the escape tunnels, and I'd rather have her in the Hospital, taking care of Albus," Minerva mused. Then her face lit up and something like mischief tinkled in her eyes. "I just know the perfect candidate." She turned to the side of the Hall and held up a hand.  
  
"Mr. Filch? May I have a word with you, please."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
The graveyard was eerily quiet. Claire could hear no sound but the crackle of the fire and now and then a moan from the white throne of death.  
  
She folded and unfolded her hands, while Olsen tried to keep up the conversation, talking about mutual acquaintances and the weather as if they sat in the Three Broomsticks. More than once she came close to strangle him and yell at him to shut up. Only the thought that it would not help Sirius, held her still.  
  
He was over there, and she knew he was in pain from the few insinuations Pettigrew had let out. The fourth Marauder gave her the creeps. He was not human any more, both body and mind had suffered serious damage in Voldemort's service. And it was obvious he relished the prospect of torturing his old friend to death.  
  
He made her sick.  
  
Sitting there, doing nothing, made her sick.  
  
Ben would not let her out of sight, and certainly would not let her wander past the fires to the three stakes. When a Death Eater came running to report the sighting of a broom two miles south of the graveyard, she let out a slow breath of relief. Whatever happened now, nothing could be worse than this impotent waiting.  
  
  
  
Serene landed the broom as gracelessly as she could, to cover up for the dust Laurel's broom whirled up when it touched down next to the stakes. With a sigh she untied the straps that held the wooden trunk and let it thump heavily to the ground.  
  
Ben and Pettigrew stood to the left and right of something that reminded her of a skeleton, only these bones where covered with paperthin skin. And it had eyes. And it breathed. Well ... hissed, more like. So this had to be Voldemort, the Dark Lord.  
  
Serene swallowed hard. This thing would touch Remus only over her dead body.  
  
  
  
Laurel pushed the invisible broom into the shadow of a sunken grave stone, and made sure the cloak covered her completely. She had landed right beside a stake, that held Sirius, and although he could not see her, it seemed as if he stared right into her eyes.  
  
He bled from numerous cuts on his arms and legs, vicious wounds that looked like traces of huge claws.  
  
Biting her lips to stifle a sob, she sneaked closer, always keeping the stake and the fires between her and the throne of Death. When she touched Sirius' cheek, he winced. But he was conscious enough to keep still.  
  
"Don't move," she whispered.  
  
"Laurel." It was but a breath.   
  
"Where is Lupin?" Her stomach clenched. "And ... Severus?"  
  
"Moony is over there." He turned his head an inch to the left. "In bad shape. Silver shackles."  
  
Her eyes followed his gesture. Remus hung of the stake, only held by the chains, and only the slight tremor that ran through his body proved he was still alive.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
The word came out like a plea, and Sirius closed his eyes in pity. "The stake in the middle. Laurel, I think he is dead."  
  
"No." Her fingernails dug painfully into his injured arm. "No."  
  
"Laurel ..."  
  
But she was already gone.  
  
  
  
"We have a deal." Serene's voice was icy. "You get Potter, I get Remus."  
  
A wave of Ben's hand made two Death Eaters hurry to the far left of the stakes. Serene's heart raced, when they returned, dragging a limp body after them.  
  
"If he is dead, I swear ..."  
  
Remus breathed, she was almost sure she had seen his chest rise and fall. But the stench of burned flesh from his wrists and ankles made her eyes water. "You bound him with silver? You are such a petty ass, Ben!"  
  
The Dark Lord raised his hand imperiously. "Tell the witch to cease her insults, Olsen, and to give us what we desire."  
  
Ben scowled at his master's choice of words. For a long time Serene had been all he'd desired. Now power would have to suffice.  
  
"You heard our Lord Voldemort," he snarled. "Shut up and open the trunk."  
  
Serene stepped between Remus and the wizards by the white throne. If the plan went wrong, she would defend Remus to her last breath - and that would come very soon, she was afraid, when she threw a side glance at the backs of several dozens Death Eaters who surrounded the graveyard.  
  
She reached into her sleeve for her wand and immediately both Pettigrew and Olsen produced their own wands.  
  
"Put it down!"  
  
Shaking her head, she rose the wand, very slowly. "The lock is charmed. Only I know the counter-spell, and I need my wand to open it."  
  
Pettigrew's mouth twitched. "Put the wand down, I said. We open it ourselves."  
  
"No." A hiss from the throne made the wizard shudder and cringe. "Let her do it. We don't have the time to find the right spell."  
  
"Besides," Ben mused and stared at her with a mixture of contempt and suspicion, "it could be a trap. Maybe the trunk explodes if anybody tampers with the lock."  
  
Serene showed them a toothy grin, until her eyes met Claire's. The cool grey stare reminded her of her mission.  
  
She swallowed. Was Laurel at her position by the stakes? There was no way she could find out, all she could do was trust the plan.  
  
With a deep breath she touched the lock with the point of her wand.  
  
A whispered sequence of words.  
  
Serene stepped back, until her heels touched Remus' legs. Her fingers clenched around the wand.  
  
Almost unbearably slow, the top of the trunk opened, and Voldemort's emaciated face lit up in the perversion of a smile.  
  
"Harry Potter, at last."  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
It took them almost thirty minutes to climb the fifth Tower. It was the night of Midsummer, and just like at Beltane all magic ceased within the tower but the building' own magic.  
  
When they finally reached the top , it was already past midnight, and Minerva's face grew more worried every time she checked the small pendulum clock that was pinned to Madame Pomfrey's pristine apron.  
  
"We'll be late," she muttered when Goyle, Ron and two seventh years needed four tries to break the sturdy oak door Dumbledore had had Hagrid carpenter to close off the platform on top of Etherwing Tower.  
  
When the door gave way, students poured into the circular room, and Hermione could not suppress the cold shudder remembering the bottomless hole that had been open in the floor last time she'd been there. A fast glance at Ron, Neville and Draco told her she was not the only one who felt a slight unease.  
  
"Everybody step back to the wall. We need to hurry," commanded Professor McGonagall. While Flitwick and Vector began to draw the complicated lines the spell required and Sprout and Hooch placed burning candles at certain points on the pattern, the Headmistress beckoned Draco to her side.  
  
"Now it is your turn, Malfoy," she said quietly. "Do your best."  
  
Draco nodded, so pale with fear Hermione felt a bang of pity. He was probably the only one in the Tower who knew exactly what could go wrong, and still he stepped into the middle of the glowing lines on the floor as if it were the Quidditch pitch.  
  
As soon as the pattern was drawn and all the candles were lit, the teachers withdrew as far as possible. Draco closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. At first the words came slowly, then more self-assured. A ripple went through the floor.

"Ad astra ..." Draco suddenly went silent. "Ad astra et ..." he tried again.  
  
Silence.   
  
Beaten, the boy let his head sink. "I can't remember the last sentence," he whispered.  
  
Ignoring McGonagall's warning hand, Hermione stepped into the pattern. "Come on, Malfoy! Think!" she snapped. "You are a damned pureblood! Your kind is supposed to be superior - now is the moment to prove it once and for all."  
  
His fair eyes narrowed. "Very funny, Granger. I was about to cast the last sentence when you and your nosy friends burst in. Had I ever said it in the night of Beltane, I would well remember it!"  
  
"Yeah, but we would be dead by now, wouldn't we?" snapped Ron.

The lines flickered and dimmed, fading away slowly but steadily.  
  
"There must be a way!" Hermione stamped her foot impatiently. Then her face lit up all of a sudden. "Of course!" She beamed at her fellow students. "It is written in "Hogwarts, A History", where it is credited to Helga Hufflepuff, while I for my self tend to attribute it to a much older source ..."  
  
"Hermione!" hissed Ron and clenched his fists. "For Merlin's sake!"  
  
She shrugged and closed her eyes. "Help will be given to those who ask for it."  
  
Her clear words echoed from the walls of the tower. Suddenly thin flakes of plaster began to peel off the wall between the two narrow windows, and the face of a witch appeared. A butterfly sat on her shoulder, it's palm-sized wings a brilliant sapphire blue.  
  
"Estella Etherwing," gasped Professor Flitwick and stared up at the smiling face. "So not all the pictures of her could be destroyed."  
  
"The tower must have guarded it." McGonagall shook her head. "So many centuries."  
  
"Young witch, you appeal to an ancient law." Estella Etherwing's eyes sank deep into Hermione's. "What is it you need help with?"  
  
Hermione swallowed and stared at the face in the wall, until Draco's elbow connected with her ribs.   
  
"Get a grip, mudblood," he hissed, sharp enough to make her angry. And angry was what she needed right now.  
  
Frowning and rubbing her side, the young witch searched for the right words. "Your tower served as a portal once," she said eventually. "But it has not been used for centuries. We need to open it again, so we can bring help ourselves."  
  
The founder smiled beatifically. "So shall it be. Just say the magic word and the portal will take you wherever you want to go."  
  
With that she faded away until no trace of colour betrayed the portrait's existence behind the plaster.  
  
"Wow." Draco Malfoy's eyes met McGonagall's in disbelieve. "It's that easy?"  
  
"We still don't know the magic word," muttered Ron and dug for his wand. Aiming it at the middle of the pattern, he cast "Alohomora!"  
  
Nothing happened. One by one the teachers tried opening spells and curses of all kinds, some of them so dark, Minerva took note to have a serious talk with her staff once this mission was over.  
  
If they survived, that was.  
  
When it became clear that no common magic would open the portal, all eyes turned expectantly to Minerva. The seconds ticked away, and just when she was ready to admit their failure and accept that Snape, Lupin and Black would die by the hands of the Death Eaters - and their women as well, she was afraid - a shy voice rose.  
  
"May I try?"  
  
A thin eyebrow cocked, Minerva shrugged, already defeated. "Well, Mr Longbottom, why not?"  
  
Neville stepped between Hermione and Draco in the middle of the floor, blushing when he felt so many eyes rest at him.  
  
He swallowed hard. This was probably foolish, but ...  
  
"My Grandmother told me the magic word when I was very young," he said softly. "It is: Please."  
  
Draco snorted. "Please? 'Please, dear portal, open?' This is just so like you, Longbottom."  
  
Suddenly Hermione grabbed his sleeve and pointed at the stone floor beneath their feet. The lines had started to glow anew, and a thin crack began to open.  
  
Minerva gave Neville an acknowledging smile that made him only blush more, then she turned to the students. "Against all odds we'll go into battle after all. Keep your wands ready and stay with your assigned group. Once you are at the other side, remember that we need to fight as a unit."  
  
While the crack opened to a gauge and then to an abyss, the students gathered around the open portal. When the first group together with McGonagall and Flitwick took the leap, Ron turned to Neville.  
  
"Please!" he muttered. "Mom would love that."  
  
Then he grabbed Hermione's hand, gave Draco and Neville a curt nod, and jumped.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Voldemort rose off his throne and made a triumphant step in the direction of ... ah, he was so much more than a mere boy, wasn't he? Insolent green eyes, a mob of black hair, the red scar on the forehead a memento of the darkest moment in Voldemort's life, he embodied everything the Dark Lord hated. Everything that stood between him and eternal life.  
  
Relishing the situation - this time the boy would not get out of here alive, would he? - he ignored that the red-haired witch covered her eyes with her hands.  
  
There were whispers behind his back, but he ignored them as well, drawing his wand to finish his enemy off.  
  
"Dumbledore." Ben's voice was hoarse with fear.   
  
Pettigrew gave only a whimper. "Crookshanks!"  
  
  
Remus at Serene's feet stared at the full moon and lost conscience again.  
  
In the back of the graveyard, Sirius drew in a breath like a sigh. "The Dementors."  
  
And Severus, barely alive after the torture the Dark Lord had taken him through, opened his eyes. "Father." A gentle touch at his cheek assured him that he had gambled and won. He smiled and gave in to the darkness that embraced him.  
  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
Threefold the Unforgiveable Curse thundered.  
  
Threefold the wands of Voldemort, Olsen and Pettigrew shot a glare of green fire. But whoever – whatever - they intended to kill, just stood there, grinning at them, mocking them.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
Again they cast the deadly curse. The air started to hum, the ground to shake.  
  
Still the target stood.  
  
Serene kept her eyes to the floor and dragged Remus into the shelter of a sunken wall.  
  
Claire slipped away, her back to the scene, and made her way through the blazing fire to the stakes.  
  
Flashes fired and backfired, beamed.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
Voldemort's voice toppled over, when he stepped forward. His wand fired a third time, its lethal power uniting with that of Olsen's and Pettigrew's.  
  
For a heartbeat time stood still. All the magic, the power, seemed to tighten into a minuscule ball.  
  
And then the ball exploded.  
  
For a boggart can't be killed. At least not with the Killing Curse.  
  
  
  
Olsen dropped dead when the first wave of throbbing power hit him. His spine just snapped, the Aurors would find later when they studied the casualties on the graveyard.  
  
Pettigrew tried to get away, but the metal in his body started to sizzle, to bubble, to boil. Screaming with pain he went down, thrashing and jerking for minutes, his body deformed beyond recognition.  
  
The magic that killed them was only the fringe of the lethal power they had produced themselves. The main force however hit Voldemort.  
  
The impact was so hard it lifted the wizard off the ground, left him suspended there like a puppet. The dark hole that was his heart sucked in the power he had always craved. A last mad grin split his face.  
  
Time and space screamed.  
  
And then Lord Voldemort was no more.  
  
  
Later nobody could tell what had happened to him, since everybody at the scene had averted their eyes, and the boggart would not tell.  
  
But some insisted they had seen a thin black snake slither away through the high grass of the grave yard.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
In the Hospital Harry looked up from the book he had tried to read all night, finally ready to admit he'd read the same page over and over for the twentieth time.   
  
Dumbledore had not moved all night long, and more than once Harry had felt the urge to check if the old wizard still breathed.  
  
Suddenly a gust of icy wind made the candles flicker, and almost die. But the light insisted.  
  
When Harry looked down at the patient, Dumbledore's bright blue eyes stared straight back at him. And he smiled. Faint, and weak, but he smiled.  
  
"Professor ..." Harry's voice hitched when he touched the wizard's frail hand. A minute ago it had felt cold and immobile, and now life and warmth pulsed through it. "Is it over?"  
  
"Yes, it is over. For now." Although the words came painfully slow and strained, Dumbledore never lost his smile. "I assume your seventh year at Hogwarts will be unbearably boring, Harry."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
"Damn it! I completely forgot about them!"  
  
Laurel stood by Severus' stake and was about to draw her wand to undo the magical chains that held him, when she heard Serene's curse. She turned, only to see a line of figures in dark cloaks. Dozens. Hundreds. They seeped out of the darkness, a steadily tightening ring that would crush everything in its centre.  
  
The three women looked at each other. So this was the end. There was no way they could defend themselves against an army of that size and determination – let alone those they'd come to save. Without a word they moved slowly backwards, until each of them stood between their man and the attackers. Neither wizard was in the condition to raise a wand, which had been broken and burned by Voldemort, anyway.   
  
"Three is not enough," Laurel thought feverish. "Three is not enough."  
  
And almost like an answer to her thoughts, the air split.  
  
Suddenly a gap opened right in the middle of nothing, as if an invisible curtain had been slashed by a blade. And out of it stumbled, staggered, pushed ... students. Hogwarts students. In groups of five, mingled with teachers, the Lupins, Castor Black.  
  
Serene did not believe her eyes when she saw Professor Flitwick smile at her and wave his wand in greeting. Claire sighed, when she noticed that Harry was not amongst the students. At least Harry and Rose were safe.   
  
As sudden as the portal had opened, it closed again, and left no trace of its existence.  
  
Minerva sought Laurel's eyes. "Help will be given to those who ask. And sometimes even to those who forgot to ask," she announced dryly.  
  
Then she turned to the students.  
  
"A circle. And remember what you learned in duelling club. Sometimes it is wiser to block than to attack."  
  
  
  
The attack came over them like a forceful gale.  
  
Death Eaters, mad with confusion and anger, moved closer, wands pointed to kill. They marched like zombies, ignoring stones and half sunken walls.  
  
Ron looked at Hermione. "I don't like this," he muttered. "We are outnumbered, and we are students, for Merlin's sake. These guys know their curses."  
  
Hermione grit her teeth. He was right, they had only a ghost of a chance. She could already recognise faces, faces she knew from pictures in the Daily Prophet. Honourable citizens. Their eyes burned like those of rabid animals. She held her wand up high, ready to block the first strike.  
  
And then she saw the light.  
  
Literally.  
  
A tiny flame in the air. Flickering, fighting.  
  
Another one.  
  
Many more.  
  
"I see stars," mumbled Draco. "Before I even got hit."  
  
Like a shimmering net the flames linked, until they'd spun a dome of light over the centre of the graveyard. Brilliant pure white light. It seemed alive, breathing, growing.  
  
"All of us," whispered Minerva and felt her eyes get wet with emotion. "It needed all of us."  
  
Most Death Eaters simply dropped their wands and fled the battlefield. But a few covered their eyes and cast their curses against the dome of light, only to see the lethal green glow dissolve like fog. Finally it became clear that no lethal curse, no evil magic would pierce the shield, and the enemy gave up.  
  
And what an hour ago had been Voldemort's army, ran like vermin and disappeared in the fading night beyond the walls of the cemetery.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
With Castor's help Claire gently lowered Sirius off the stake. Kneeling in front of her, because he felt too weak to stand up immediately, he grinned at her.  
  
"About time you came." His voice was a caress. "I was just about to escape, but then ..."  
  
"I know." She had to wipe the tears away. "I know, my darling." Her hands touched his arms, assuring herself that he was there, that he was alive. When he winced, she bit her lip.   
  
It took her only minutes to close the deep wounds Pettigrew's claw had inflicted, and Sirius watched her with a strange expression, when she searched his body for more injuries.  
  
"What?" she smiled.  
  
He only shook his head. "I hoped to die, when I heard them talk about you coming here tonight. I hoped to be dead so you would not need to watch when Peter tortured me to death."  
  
"I told you before, I want you alive." Her eyes were cool grey pools. "I haven't changed my mind, Sirius."  
  
He kissed her until her eyes lost any detachment. She snuggled into his arms, and for the first time in days allowed herself a moment of weakness.  
  
Stroking back the shreds of his sleeve, she stared at his arm.  
  
"The Mark!" she breathed, wide-eyed with surprise. "It is gone."  
  
Sirius sighed. "No more Dark Mark. No more Fidelius Charm. Will you still love me when I am only Sirius Black, author?"  
  
Her smile told him everything he needed to know.  
  
  
  
Serene cleared her throat. "Sorry to disturb this touching scene, but your talents as a healer are needed."  
  
Claire bit back a sharp remark when she saw the sorrow in her friend's eyes. "Remus?"  
  
Serene only nodded and led the way past the smoking remains of the Dark Lord's throne to where she had bedded Remus onto her cloak.  
  
His face burned with fever. There was no blood, no open wound, and still he seemed in agony.  
  
"Silver." Sirius' mouth got dry, when he caught the whiff of scorched skin. "Olsen took care of that. He made sure the shackles were pure silver."  
  
Claire kneeled down next to Remus and covered his burned wrists with her hands. Focusing on calm waters and green meadows usually helped, but this time the giddy happiness she felt, did the trick much better. Gradually the wizard relaxed as the pain ceased.   
  
His eyes opened. It took him some effort to focus. But when he saw the hazy cloud of red hair, he sighed. "Could not tell you ..."  
  
"I know."  
  
Serene had rehearsed so many angry speeches on the broom-ride from Hogwarts to the graveyard, and now she only remembered how much she loved him. Her hand slipped into his. "You ruined your robe." She tore off the ripped sleeve and cast it away. 

"Ben's fault."

"Bastard." Her eyes caressed him. "He was scum."  
  
Remus raised a trembling hand to stroke away her tears, but to no avail. When Claire had treated his injuries, Sirius helped him to sit up.  
  
Serene hugged him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.  
  
"Don't think you can get out of the wedding that easily, Lupin," she sobbed.  
  
He only held her tight, stroking her back, muttering foolish sweet words.  
  
Sirius, never letting go off Claire's hand, crouched down to his friend. "This time it was close, Moony," he said softly.  
  
Remus nodded over Serene's shoulder. "You know that folklore says werewolves get eaten by the moon in the end? When I saw that fat pale sphere ..."  
  
"You saw the moon?" Sirius frowned. "Strange. I ... there was a Dementor ..." He looked questioningly at his wife.  
  
She smirked. "I covered my eyes."  
  
"A boggart!" Remus' eyes lit up. "Brilliant!"   
  
Sirius stared at the scorched ground where Voldemort had .... disappeared, at least. "See what you fear most. Of course he'd see ..."  
  
"Harry Potter." Remus kissed Serene's forehead.  
  
"See, I delivered him at last. I was right after all," Serene sniffed and blew her nose, grateful for the handkerchief Claire offered. It was so like Claire to get out prim and proper and organised, even when the world had almost collapsed a minute or two, she thought warmly.  
  
"It was Laurel's plan," Claire told with obvious pride. "Somehow she made that boggart cooperate."  
  
Remus almost toppled over laughing. "This is so magnificent," he gasped. "Everybody fears a boggart. But the boggarts fear Laurel Hunter."  
  
"But how? Riddikulus would scare it away, I give you that. But scare it into submission?" Sirius picked flakes of sott out of Claire's fair hair.  
  
"She does not believe in boggarts," Remus explained and tried to stand up with a groan. "Imagine that. Doesn't believe in ghosts, either. Muggle born and raised, it's a rare but not unknown handicap."  
  
"Merlin, she challenged the boggart's very existence!" Sirius chuckled. "No wonder the poor thing would hide in that trunk."  
  
"It all came down to the gamble whether Voldemort was afraid enough of Harry to see him in the Boggart. Olsen and Pettigrew we never thought about." Serene scowled. "If he weren't already dead, it would kill Ben to know we framed him."  
  
"We thought we could free you in the ensuing confusion and get out of here." Claire stroked Sirius cheek. "Laurel landed in the back of the grave yard, under Harry's invisibility cloak."  
  
"She talked to me," Sirius remembered. "Asked about ..." His face fell. "Snape. Oh no!"  
  
Drawing Claire with him, he ran towards the stakes.  
  
  
  
Laurel sat by the stake, her face vacant, her eyes closed. Tears streaked her cheeks as she cried silently. The Potions master's lifeless body lay on the ground, partially covered with the invisibility cloak. His left leg looked as if it had been mangled, the knee bent into the wrong direction, an open fracture piercing the flesh. His lips were raw and encrusted with blood, where he had bitten them to keep himself from screaming. He did not breathe, and when Claire gingerly touched his wrist, she could not feel a pulse.  
  
"Are you alright, Laurel?" she asked, her voice shaking with compassion.  
  
There was no answer, no sign the witch had heard her at all.  
  
Serene skidded to a stop next to the small group. "Laurel?" In disbelieve she stared at Snape. "Is he ..."   
  
Numb with pain and shock Laurel forced herself to open her eyes. "He was alive when I arrived. I touched him, and he smiled. But then there was the green fire and ..." A sob shook her so hard, Serene had to hold her. "Severus stopped breathing."  
  
With feeble hands Claire pushed up the sleeve of the tattered robe and studied Snape's forearm. The Dark Mark had vanished, but where the skin had recovered unblemished with Sirius, here a vicious scar marred the flesh.  
  
"I don't understand," she said softly to Madam Pomfrey, who stood next to her. "How can a wound scar when the body is dead?"  
  
The nurse shook her head. "It is impossible. He was ... linked ... with Voldemort for a very long time. That's probably the reason why the Dark Lord's death affected him as well."  
  
"But is was his idea to kill Voldemort like that!" Laurel almost shouted the words. "His own idea. He would not ..." She rubbed her wet eyes. "Yes. He would."  
  
"But he can't be dead!", Claire insisted. "Sure there is no sign of life, but maybe he is caught inside. You know, like in a shell he can't crack."  
  
"A shell he built, so Voldemort would not drag him with him into destruction." Sirius nodded slowly. "This sounds reasonable."  
  
Serene looked at the healer and the nurse expectantly. "What can we do?"  
  
Sadly Madam Pomfrey raised her hand. "Nothing. We can only wait and hope."  
  
"Hope." Laurel's finger traced Severus' jaw line. He felt so cold to the touch. Strangely, the coldness reassured her that he was not dead. Surely a body needed time to cool, when the warmth of life left it? And Severus had literally frozen, as soon as the green glow of the Unforgivable Curse had risen over the grave yard. And still ...  
  
She looked up. "I'll take him home."  
  
Remus kneeled down next to her. "Laurel, I don't know if it is wise ...." His voice hitched. "Maybe St. Mungo's would be better suited for his condition."  
  
Stubbornly she stared at him until he lowered his gaze. "I'll take him home with me," she repeated calmly.  
  
But just as she rose, and Sirius and Remus bent down to lift the body, Neville Longbottom, pushed by another nosy student, stumbled forward. Not recognising the invisibility coat for what it was, he stumbled over Snape's long legs, lost his balance and came down with full force, right onto the Potions master's chest.  
  
Laurel cried out.  
  
Neville stared breathless with shock at his teacher's pale face.  
  
Snape gave a dry cough and opened his eyes. When he recognised Neville, his features set into the familiar scowl.  
  
"So this is Hell, after all."  
  
Laurel raised a hand to her mouth to stifle another cry. Her knees shook so hard, she had to give in and sit down. Neville eventually got up, forcibly helped by Sirius, who pushed the boy aside like a bundle of rags.  
  
Snape's hand, still icy, reached for Laurel, painfully weak but determined. "I knew," he whispered hoarsely. " I knew you'd see through. All the riddles, all the deceit. You always saw me."  
  
Now she wept unashamedly. "It is just that I know fear so well, and how it works."  
  
"And the truth." He smiled shakily. "How it would set us free."   
  
His fingers linked with hers, a tie that would not be broken, neither through time nor circumstances. "Let's go home."  
  
  
* * *  
  
_  
In the bedroom, the wizard rose silently. Both children were fast asleep. He picked up the blanket the boy had pushed down and stroked a look of silvery hair out of the dream flushed face of his daughter.  
  
Then he gently closed the door and went down the stairs to the study from where light spilled through the half open door onto the dark corridor. For a moment he halted and savoured the familiar picture - his wife, sitting behind the huge oaken desk, an ink smear on her cheek, deeply immersed in her writings.  
  
As if he'd wordlessly called out to her, she raised her head and looked up. The smile she gave him made the light shine brighter, the fire in the hearth burn higher, his heart beat faster.  
  
"Everyone asleep?" she asked softly.  
  
He nodded and carefully made his way through small stacks of parchment that covered the floor like ice-floes, until he stood behind her leather chair and could look down at her work.  
  
"Are you done?" he asked, kneading away the knots in her shoulders.  
  
She sighed in delight and closed her eyes. "Almost."  
  
The wizard took in the heaps of parchment that covered the oak desk and piled onto the floor. Several magical quills lay, in varying states of exhaustion, in the waste basket.  
  
"So this is it then," he said. "Your father will be so proud. Another writer in the family."  
  
"He'll be even more proud to hear that he'll have another grandchild come next spring." The witch smiled and laid a hand onto her belly. "I'll tell them as soon as they return from Zanzibar next month."  
  
"Well, if their reaction resembles that of my parents in any way, it is worth waiting another month."  
  
She raised her face to him and smiled. "I never thought I'd see your father with tears in his eyes."  
  
The wizard smirked. "He cried at our wedding, remember? At least that's what Mum says. He still insists he is allergic to freesias ..."  
  
The memory made her smile. "We both got great parents, don't we? I only hope our lot says the same about us one day." She patted the parchment. "Pass me a fresh quill, will you? I'll end it now, and take it to London next Monday."  
  
"Another Winterstorm best-seller, just in time for Christmas," he mused. "Headmaster Lupin won't mind if I take leave for a day and accompany you to London. I need supplies, anyway." For a moment his mind drifted away to storage rooms, schedules and pitiful first years wasting precious Joberknoll.   
  
"Have they overcome the shock that now Lorca wants to be an Auror, too?"  
  
He shrugged. "When Jamie told them he'd go to London right after graduation, they took it with remarkable ease."  
  
"I remember Uncle Cas giving James Lupin a toy flame torch when he was but four years old," the witch reminisced with a smile. "That boy wanted to be an Auror before he could ride a broom!"  
  
"True. That's why nobody argued with him about it. They had enough time to become familiar with the thought. But last year, when the twins decided they wanted to be famous dragon researchers and go to Romania to work with Professor Weasley, Aunt Ene almost blew up. And Remus tried to talk them out of it, but to no avail."  
  
"And now Lorca," she sighed. "She is so young, barely eighteen."  
  
"The girl's smart and courageous. She'll make her way. They all will, just like we did." He brushed her temple with his lips, and used his other hand to open a drawer to grub for a new sharp quill.   
  
"So this here tells the whole story?" he asked again.  
  
"About Laurel and Severus, Claire and Sirius, Serene and Remus."  
  
"About the darkness and the light," the wizard added. "And how the light won."  
  
A dark shadow crossed the witch's face. "For the time being."  
  
"For the time being," he agreed. "The present is all we posses. And a hope for the future." With that he put the fresh quill in her hand.  
  
She looked up at him, and for a moment drowned in his eyes, let herself be wrapped in a mental embrace of unconditional love. Love that had always been there. Always, as long as either of them could remember. Even in those dark times when neither of them had wanted to admit it, love had been there.  
  
And with a flourish she added the last words:_

  
  
THE END  
  
is not the End. As the Beginning was not the Beginning ...  


****

AN:  
  
Well, this is it – the Happy End.   
  
  
**Some 273.700 words ago I thought this would be hard work – but it was a pleasure to write.  
  
Thank you for listening.  
  
  
Leila B.**


End file.
